"Very well, then," said Davis, rising. "You've got to go with us. We'll go first to Blackwall, and, by the Lord, if we can't find your father, we'll take it out of you. You'll be put in the jug for ten years, and you'll have to tell after all. Come along now."
Davis grasped the boy's hand tightly and took him out of the room. A cab was at the door. Davis, Black Bill, and the boy got into it and drove along through the streets. The boy was silent and meditative. At last he spoke:
"It's no use goin' to Blackwall," said he, sulkily. "I ain't got no father."
"Didn't I know that?" said Davis. "You were lying, you know. Are you goin' to own up?"
"I s'pose I must."
"Of course you must."
"Well, will you let me go if I tell you all?"
"If you tell all we'll let you go sometime, but we will want you for a while yet."
"Well," said the boy, "I can't help it. I s'pose I've got to tell."
"Of course you have. And now, first, who sent you here?"