Paul looked down at the brat, who was curly-headed and as sharp as a needle. "How do you know my name?" he asked. "I never saw you before." "I'm the new office-boy," said the urchin, "wishin' to be respectable and leave street-'awking, which ain't what it was. M'name's Tray, an' I've seen you afore, mister. I 'elped to pull you out from them wheels with the 'aughty gent as guv me a bob fur doin' it." "Oh, so you helped," said Paul, smiling. "Well, here is another shilling. I am much obliged to you, Master Tray. But from what Deborah Junk says you were a guttersnipe. How did you get this post?" "I talked m'self int' it," said Tray, importantly. "Newspapers ain't good enough, and you gets pains in wet weather. So I turns a good boy"--he grinned evilly--"and goes to a ragged kids' school to do the 'oly. The superintendent ses I'm a promising case, and he arsked Mr. Pash, as is also Sunday inclined, to 'elp me. The orfice-boy 'ere went, and I come." Tray tossed the shilling and spat on it for luck as he slipped it into the pocket of quite a respectable pair of trousers. "So I'm on m'waiy to bein' Lord Mayor turn agin Wittington, as they ses in the panymine." "Well," said Beecot, amused, "I hope you will prove yourself worthy." Tray winked. "Ho! I'm straight es long es it's wuth m'while. I takes m'sal'ry 'ome to gran, and don't plaiy pitch an' torse n'more." He winked again, and looked as wicked a brat as ever walked. Paul had his doubts as to what the outcome of Mr. Pash's charity would be, and, being amused, was about to pursue the conversation, when the inner door opened and Pash, looking troubled, appeared. When he saw Paul he started and came forward. "I was just about to send Tray for you," said he, looking anxious. "Something unpleasant has come to light in connection with Krill." Beecot started and brought out the scrap of paper. "Look at that," he said, "and you will see that the man warned Sylvia." Pash glanced hurriedly over the paper. "Most unfortunate," he said, folding it up and puffing out his cheeks; "but it's too late. The name of Krill was in those printed bills--a portrait also, and now--" "Well, what?" asked Paul, seeing the lawyer hesitated. "Come inside and you'll see," said Pash, and conducted Beecot into the inner room. Here sat two ladies. The elder was a woman of over fifty, but who looked younger, owing to her fresh complexion and plump figure. She had a firm face, with hard blue eyes and a rather full-lipped mouth. Her hair was white, and there was a great deal of it. Under a widow's cap it was dressed _a la_ Marie Antoinette, and she looked very handsome in a full-blown, flowery way. She had firm, white hands, rather large, and, as she had removed her black gloves, these, Paul saw, were covered with cheap rings. Altogether a respectable, well-dressed widow, but evidently not a lady.