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The official turned towards him with sudden distrust. He had not

previously uttered a word.

"Come!" said Mr. Cruncher. "Speak out, you know." (Which, by the

way, was more than he could do himself.) "John Solomon, or

Solomon John? She calls you Solomon, and she must know, being

your sister. And I know you're John, you know. Which of the two

goes first? And regarding that name of Pross, likewise. That

warn't your name over the water."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know all I mean, for I can't call to mind what

your name was, over the water."

"No?"

"No. But I'll swear it was a name of two syllables."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. T'other one's was one syllable. I know you. You was a

spy--witness at the Bailey. What, in the name of the Father of

Lies, own father to yourself, was you called at that time?"

"Barsad," said another voice, striking in.

"That's the name for a thousand pound!" cried Jerry.