"Nonsense, you young rascal! Listen to me now, and answer me. Do you know any thing about this Brown?"
"No, Sir. Father sent me."
"Well, then, let me tell you the police are after him. He's afraid to come here, and sent you. Don't you go and get mixed up with him. If you do, it'll be worse for you. This Brown is the biggest villain in the kingdom, and any man that catches him'll make his blessed fortune. We're on his tracks, and we're bound to follow him up. So tell me the truth--where is he now?"
"In Liverpool, Sir."
"You lie, you young devil! But, if you don't own up, it'll be worse for you."
"How's a poor cove like me to know?" cried the boy. "I'm the son of a honest, man, and I don't know any thing about your police."
"You'll know a blessed sight more about it before you're two hours older, if you go on hum-buggin' us this fashion," said Davis, sternly.
"I ain't a-humbuggin'."
"You are--and I won't stand it. Come now. Brown is a _murderer_, do you hear? There's a reward offered for him. He's got to be caught. You've gone and mixed yourself up with this business, and you'll never get out of the scrape till you make a clean breast of it. That's all bosh about your father, you know."
"It ain't," said the boy, obstinately.