"It was not his name," said Pash. "His real name I have told you, and for years I have known the truth."
"Do you know why he changed his name?" asked Beecot, quickly.
"No, sir, I don't. And if I did, I don't know if it would be legal etiquette to reveal the reason to a stranger."
"He's not a stranger," cried Sylvia, annoyed.
"Well, then, to a young gentleman whom I have only seen twice. Why do you ask, Mr. Beecot?"
"I was wondering if the change of name had anything to do with the murder," said Paul, hesitating.
"How could it," said Pash, testily, "when the man never expected to be murdered?"
"Beggin' your parding, Mr. Pash, but you're all out," said Deborah. "Master did expect to have his throat cut, or his 'ead knocked orf, or his inside removed—"
"Deborah," cried Paul, hastily, "you are making Sylvia nervous."
"Don't you worrit, pretty," said the maiden, "it's only silly old Debby's way. But master, your par as was, my pretty, went to church and prayed awful against folk as he never named, to say nothin' of lookin' over the left shoulder blade and sleepin' in the cellar bolted and barred, and always with his eye on the ground sad like. Old Baileys and police-courts was in his mind, say what you like."