"He didn't," denied the boy.
"Then in that case you've told a lie. Pash never had the brooch, and has nothing to do with the murder."
"He did prig the brooch from me, and he did kill the ole cove."
"Well, we'll see what Mr. Pash will say when you accuse him," said Hurd; "but I don't believe one word of it. It's my opinion that you gave that brooch to a third party on the same evening as you stole it. Now, then, who did you give it to?"
"Mr. Pash," persisted Tray.
"On the same evening?"
There was no reply to this. Tray set his lips firmly and refused to speak. Hurd shook an admonitory finger again. "You can't play fast and loose with me, my lad," he said grimly; "if you didn't part with that brooch, you must be mixed up in the crime yourself. Perhaps you pinned the poor wretch's mouth together. It's just the sort of cruel thing a young Cain like you would do."
"I didn't," said Master Clump, doggedly; "you take me to master, and I'll tell him what I tells you. He's the one."
Hurd shook the boy to make him talk more, but Tray simply threw himself on the floor of the carriage and howled. The detective therefore picked him up and flung him into a corner. "You stop there, you little ruffian," he said, seriously annoyed at the boy's recalcitrants; "we'll speak again when we are in Mr. Pash's office." So Tray curled up on the cushion, looked savagely at the detective and held his tongue.
"What do you think will be the end of all this?" asked Paul, when Master Clump was thus disposed of.