No answer came from Paul's lips for several seconds, seconds that seemed as hours. Deep silence reigned in the cave, then it was broken by the clear voice of the boy:
"Yes; I know who that man was. He called himself Israel Zuker."
Zuker could not repress a movement of astonishment as Paul pronounced his name.
"Knowing this—knowing that it was through me your father lost his life, you could yet say that prayer—'As we forgive them that trespass against us'? You are as brave as your father was," came hoarsely from his lips.
"I could wish no greater praise than that," answered Paul. "But I had not finished. Shall I go on?"
"You need not be in so great a hurry. Wait till I tell you. I have one or two more questions to ask you. How did you come to know that I was the man who spied upon your father—the man through whom he lost his life—the man——Ach!" He stopped himself suddenly. His brow darkened; the veins stood out in knots upon his forehead. "Fool! Why didn't I guess it? I see it all now. It is your master—it is Weevil who told you. It is Weevil who has betrayed me."
His hand went to the weapon in his breast again.
"No, you are mistaken; Mr. Weevil has told me nothing. He has not betrayed you."
"You are telling me false. You are trying to mislead me. Beware! No one else knew my secret. Who else could tell you?"
"I learned it from a little fellow whom I loved as a brother, and who loved me as a brother, too. Alas, he is now dead! We called him Hibbert."