"I don't. I've done nothing," said Jerry, sulkily.

"You have attempted to poison Michael Gilroy----"

"Do you know his name, Mr. Grant?"

"Yes! And you know mine, Master Jerry. Come now, you must reply to the questions which Lord Conniston wishes to put."

"Sha'n't," said Jerry, and set his pretty, tearful face firmly.

"Judas," said Conniston, taking his riding-whip from a near table, "there's only one course to be pursued with boys like you. If you don't speak out, I'll give you one of the finest thrashings you ever had in your life."

"I'll have an action against you then," snapped Jerry, very pale.

"Certainly. But you'll have to get out of prison to bring it."

"Prison?" Jerry quavered and shook all over.

"Yes, prison," mimicked Conniston. "Do you think you can behave like a young criminal and get off scot free?"

"I was deceived by Mr. Beryl. He's older than I am. I am only a boy."

"You are old enough to be hanged, at all events."

"You said I wouldn't be, my lord."

"That depends upon my good word," said Conniston, bluffing; "and you won't have that unless you confess."

"Confess what, my lord?"

"All about this business connected with Beryl," put in Gore. "It was you who led me to the house in Crimea Square."

"I didn't--I didn't!" And then Jerry uttered a howl as Conniston's whip came across his back.

"Hold your tongue and answer."

"How can I hold my tongue and answer at the same time, my lord?"

Conniston took out his watch. "I'll give you two minutes to make up your mind to talk sense. You are clever enough when it suits you. If you won't speak, I'll thrash you thoroughly, and then take you up to be handed to the police."

"And if I do, my lord?"

"I'll spare you the thrashing. But you must go to the police. You are being enquired for, young Judas. Only by confessing the whole can you avoid danger to your neck."

"Only Mr. Beryl can get me into trouble, and you won't find him," said Jerry, tauntingly. "I sent Victoria to him with a letter last night, and she must have caught the eleven train to London. I daresay she saw Mr.

Beryl last night, and he's got away."

"Why did you act so promptly?" asked Gore.

"Because I saw you, Sir Bernard. I knew the game was up, and that you were playing the fool with Mr. Beryl in getting that will signed."

"Ah! so we all were," said Conniston, calmly. "The game is up, so you had better explain your share in it. Begin from the time you were kicked out of Taberley's for stealing."

"I sha'n't," said Jerry. "I don't believe you can hurt me."

d.i.c.k's patience was exhausted. He caught the young wretch by the scruff of the neck and thrashed him thoroughly. Jerry, who had never been beaten before in his life, wept and howled and begged for mercy. At last Conniston threw him again on the rug thoroughly cowed, and between sobs Jerry expressed his willingness to reply to whatever questions were put to him. The examination was conducted as though Conniston was a barrister and Jerry a witness. Bernard, in the character of a reporter, went to the writing-table and took notes. Jerry stood wiping his eyes and replying tearfully.

"When did you meet Beryl?" asked d.i.c.k.

"At Taberley's. He knew I was Mrs. Moon's grandson, as he saw me here at one time. When I was kicked out, he promised to help me. I was told to watch Sir Bernard, and I did. I saw you, my lord, with Sir Bernard in the Park. I was always watching Sir Bernard."

"I see. That was why you sold matches. Well, and it was you who told Beryl that Sir Bernard was at Mr. Durham's house on that night?"

"Yes," snuffled Jerry. "I saw him go in. I then went to the theatre, and Mr. Beryl came out to see me. I told him, and he said I was to bring Sir Bernard to the Square."

"In any case, Beryl intended Sir Bernard should be brought there on that night?"

"Yes. About eleven o'clock or a little earlier. And I waited outside on that night and----"

"You needn't explain that," said Gore, turning his head. "I remember how you drew me to the place. Did Beryl tell you to speak of the Red Light?"

"Yes. He said you would come if I talked of a lady and the Red Window.

And Sir Simon had arranged the red light with a lamp and a handkerchief, Mr. Beryl told me afterwards. I didn't know it on the night. All I had to do was to bring you to the Square."

"And what about the whistle you gave?"

"That was to let Mr. Beryl know you were outside?"

"Was Beryl in the house at that time?"

"No," said Jerry, after a few moments of thought. "He should have been there, but he afterwards told me that he had come earlier and had gone away."

"Did he intend to murder Sir Simon?"

"I can't say," replied the boy, doubtfully. "He made that chap, Gilroy, dress up as you, and court the housemaid. His idea was to get Sir Simon to think you were making love to Jane. I think he wished to bring you to the house, so that on seeing the red light you might go in, and then Sir Simon would have quarrelled with you for loving Jane. I don't think he intended murder. But Michael Gilroy came and saw Sir Simon, and then bolted when he saw the Italian, thinking he was a detective. He told Mr.

Beryl that the next day!"

"Who came to the house on that night, Jerry? State the time they came also."

Jerry thought again. "The Italian came first, and while he was in the room, about ten I think, Michael came. Then Michael bolted, and the Italian followed. Then shortly after ten Mr. Beryl came from the theatre----"

"Did you see him?"

"No," rejoined Jerry, tartly. "How could I? I was leading you then."

"Didn't you see Beryl at all that night--I mean again after you saw him to tell him where Sir Bernard was?"

"Yes, I did," said Jerry, rubbing his legs which were sore. "I may as well tell the truth. Just as we turned into Crimea Square, Sir Bernard, I brushed past Mr. Beryl."

"How could you recognize him in the fog?"