presence of Paul had worked wonders, so
she had no hesitation in leaving the two together, giving Paul strict
injunctions before doing so that he was to ring the bell in case she
was needed. Immediately she had gone from the room Hibbert turned
eagerly to Paul.

"I've been waiting to go on with what I was telling you when you were
last here, Percival. It has lain here--here!"--beating his breast. "It
has kept me awake at night, and--and the time seemed so terribly long
and dreary. I watched and waited for your coming, but though you came
they would never let me see you. Mr. Weevil was the only one I could
speak to, and I could not tell him what was on my mind."

"Why not? He is very kind to you."

"Why not--why not! When I've told you, you will understand."

"You must not excite yourself. You must not talk. If you do I will ring
the bell and bring back Mrs. Trounce."

"You wouldn't be so cruel, Percival, when I've been waiting so long to
see you and speak to you again. It's that kept me back, made me weary,
and weak, and sick at heart. When I lay awake at night-time I kept
saying to myself, 'If I should die without seeing Percival again,
without telling him what is on my mind, God would never forgive me.'"

"If all of us were as good as you, we should be a good deal better than
we are, and God wouldn't have to forgive much," said Paul tenderly.
"But, there, don't get excited, and I will listen."

For Paul could now see clearly enough that Hibbert had really suffered a
good deal of mental pain and torture through not being able to complete
the confession he had begun to him.

"Thanks," came the eager answer. "It will not take long, for I haven't
much more to say. Let me see, where did I leave off? Oh, I was speaking
about the man who was a spy on your father on that day Mr. Weevil
entered the room, wasn't I?"

"Yes--Israel Zuker."

"I haven't forgotten the name," said Hibbert, with a painful smile. "I'm
not likely to forget it--never, never, never! For--for it happens to be
my name."

"Hibbert!" cried Paul.

"My name. Israel Zuker, the man who spied upon your father, and whose
life he saved at the risk of his own, was my father."

Paul staggered back, as though he had been smitten in the face. Hibbert
the son of the German spy! Hibbert the son of Zuker! Impossible! He was
wandering. The story he--Paul--had once told him about his own father,
and the way he had lost him, had got on the boy's mind.

"Ah,