"Why don't you ask the detectives to search for the brooch," said Hay, smiling.
"It is in the detective's possession," said Paul, sullenly; "but we want to know how it came to pin Norman's lips together."
"I can't imagine, unless he picked it up. If lost at all it must have been lost in the street the old man lived in, and you told me he wanted the brooch badly."
"Wot," cried Tray, suddenly, "the one-eyed cove? Ho, yuss, but warn't he? Why, when they was a-gitin' the ambulance, an' the peelers wos a-crowdin' round, he come dancing like billeo out of his shorp."
Beecot thought this was strange, as he understood from Deborah and Bart and Sylvia that Norman had known nothing of the accident at the time. Then again Norman himself had not mentioned it when he paid that visit to the hospital within a few hours of his death. "I don't think that's true," he said to Tray sharply.
"Oh, cuss it," said that young gentleman, "wot d' I care. Th' ole cove come an' danced in the mud, and then he gits int' his shorp again. Trew is trew, saiy wot y' like, mister--ho."
Beecot turned his back on the boy. After all, he was not worth arguing with, and a liar by instinct. Still, in this case he might have spoken the truth. Norman might have appeared on the scene of the accident and have picked up the brooch. Paul thought he would tell Hurd this, and, meantime, held out his hand to Hay. In spite of the bad character he had heard of that young man, he saw no reason why he should not be civil to him, until he found him out. Meantime, he was on his guard.
"One moment," said Grexon, grasping the outstretched hand. "I have something to say to you," and he walked a little way with Paul. "I am going in to see Pash on business which means a little money to me. I was the unfortunate cause of your accident, Beecot, so I think you might accept twenty pounds or so from me."
"No, thank you all the same," said Paul gratefully, yet with a certain amount of caution. "I can struggle along. After all, it was an accident."
"A very unfortunate one," said Hay, more heartily than usual. "I shall never forgive myself. Is your arm all right?"
"Oh, much better. I'll be quite cured in a week or so."
"I manage to get along," replied Paul, reservedly. He did not wish to reveal the nakedness of the land to such a doubtful acquaintance.
