He covered his face with his hands. He was choking back the sobs that seemed of a sudden to convulse his frame.
"I shall really have to ring the bell and send for Mrs. Trounce," said Paul firmly.
The threat had its desired effect. Hibbert uncovered his face; the sobs died away in his throat. Then Paul put an arm round him, as he might have done round a brother, and said, in a softer key:
"Look here, Hibbert—what your father may have done is no fault of yours. God only judges us by what we do ourselves; and that's all I want to judge you by. You've looked upon me as your friend; I want you to look upon me as your friend still. Haven't I said that nothing you can say will make me shrink from you?"
"How good, how noble you are, Percival!"
"Humbug! But listen to me—we're getting a little off the track. The gentleman I was introduced to in the visitors' room this afternoon was your father, Israel Zuker, you say?"
"Yes."
"Wearing a false beard, then?"
"Yes. But how did you know that? Have you met him before?" asked the boy wonderingly.
Paul now understood what it was in the voice of the visitor that had seemed familiar to him.