"Why? Do you?" Paul asked.
"Y-yes," answered the boy, with hesitation. "I—I once knew a boy of that name."
"Where?" asked Paul, at once interested.
"When I was at school in Germany; but there are a good many Zukers there, you know, and the boy I speak of is dead."
"Dead! Did you know his father?"
Hibbert shook his head. Paul tore up the blotting-paper. It was just possible that Mr. Weevil might catch sight of the name, just as Hibbert had done.
"You—you don't like the name?" the boy asked, as he watched Paul.
"Oh, it's as good as any other, I suppose."
"You must have known some one of that name—I'm certain of it," persisted the boy.
"Well, I don't mind telling you, Hibbert—you've been such a good little chap to me—it was through a man of that name my father lost his life."