Gore led the way from the room and along a narrow passage. At the end of this was a door, which he opened. It led into a large empty room, but no sooner was the door opened, than a small boy darted out and endeavored to get away. He ran straight into Conniston's arms. "Now then, young Judas," said Dick, setting the boy on his legs and giving him a good shake. "Come and be tried." "My lord," gasped Jerry, who was pale with terror, and who had red eyes and disordered hair. "Yes! I know all about your poisoning, young man." Jerry dropped on his knees. "I didn't," he declared, "oh lor, I really didn't. Miss Plantagenet ordered the tea. She gave me the cup I----" "Here," said Conniston, giving him another shake, "stop that rubbish, you young beast. You dare to say such things of my aunt, who has been so kind to you. Hanging is too good for such a scamp. Come along, and answer our questions." But Jerry, grovelling on the floor, embraced Conniston's riding-boots in an agony of terror. "Oh, please," he whimpered, "I didn't mean to do any harm. Mr. Beryl gave me some white stuff and told me to give it in tea to the sick gentleman. I thought it would do him good!" With great disgust Dick picked up the young liar in his arms and carried him kicking to the sitting-room, followed by Bernard. When the door was closed, Bernard locked it, and there was no chance of Jerry getting away, as the window was thirty feet from the ground. Gore took a seat in one arm-chair and Conniston threw himself into the other, after flinging Jerry on the hearth-rug. The boy lay there, kicking and howling, nearly out of his wits with terror. "Shut up!" said Dick, sharply. "You have to answer questions." "I sha'n't," said Jerry. "You'll hang me." "There's no chance of that, worse luck," said Conniston, regretfully. On hearing this, the boy sat up. "Isn't he dead?" he asked eagerly. "Oh!" mocked Bernard, "and you thought the white stuff would do the sick gentleman good--you young scoundrel! No. He isn't dead, Lord Conniston says, but small thanks to you." "Oh!" Jerry seemed at once relieved and disappointed. "I won't get the two thousand pounds now." "And you won't be hanged either, though you richly deserve it." "I don't. I've done nothing," said Jerry, sulkily. "You have attempted to poison Michael Gilroy----" "Do you know his name, Mr. Grant?" "Yes! And you know mine, Master Jerry. Come now, you must reply to the questions which Lord Conniston wishes to put." "Sha'n't," said Jerry, and set his pretty, tearful face firmly. "Judas," said Conniston, taking his riding-whip from a near table, "there's only one course to be pursued with boys like you. If you don't speak out, I'll give you one of the finest thrashings you ever had in your life." "I'll have an action against you then," snapped Jerry, very pale. "Certainly. But you'll have to get out of prison to bring it." "Prison?" Jerry quavered and shook all over.