is mother was English, said you. It was through you he
went to Garside, because you could take greater care of him, said you.
What care? Himmel, himmel! You let those imps of Satan torture him;
through you he has been brought to the door of death."

"Cease, man--cease to torture me!" cried the master.

Paul listened in wonder, not unmixed with awe. He had heard that note of
anguish in the master's voice before--on that night when he had seen him
by Hibbert's bed; but the face, with the light of the lamp flickering on
it, might have been hewn from the limestone. It was as stern and rigid
as Fate itself.

"I have no wish to torture you; but it sickens me to hear you speak
about that boy as though it were no concern of mine--as though you were
the only one who cared for him. I tell you again, I was a fool to let
him go to Garside."

No answer came for a few moments. It seemed as though Mr. Weevil were
struggling with his feelings. When he at length spoke, his voice was
calm again. It had resumed that calm, deliberate tone with which Paul
was so familiar.

"I would like to speak to you for a few minutes alone, Israel."

Brockman took the hint, and retreating at the other entrance of the
cave, left the two together.

"I wished to speak with you alone, because I have discovered one or two
matters which will interest you. You were struck, you may remember, with
the name of the boy who saved Tim's life?"

"Yes; what of it?"

"You thought that he might be the son of that Captain Percival who years
ago saved your life at the risk of his own. I knew that the boy's father
was dead, and on examination of the school-books, I found that he was a
naval officer. I was not aware of the circumstances under which he met
his death, however. I have since discovered that he was drowned at sea
'whilst trying to save the life of a spy'--pardon me the word, but so
the record runs."

"_Ach!_ Is it possible?" came hoarsely from Zuker's lips. "I had my
suspicions when I first questioned him."

Paul pressed his ear closer to the side of the curtain. He was anxious
not to lose a word of what was spoken, for he knew that he was "the boy"
to whom the master was referring; that "Tim" was, of course, Hibbert.

"I have discovered, further, that it was this same boy--Paul
Percival--who got through with that letter to Redmead."

"The same? Ach Himmel! I caught but a glimpse of him in the darkness
that night."

"The hand of a Higher than ma