Durban bent down and kissed it, with tears in his eyes. "I have done my best for your father's sake, missy, and at least I have saved you from your mother. I would have worked for you, and would have taken you from Hurstable, but I insisted on getting the diamond necklace which rightfully belonged to you. But Mr. Alpenny refused to give it up in spite of all threats, so I arranged that Amelia Hedge should marry him, and take charge of you. Alpenny promised that when he died he would leave the money and the diamond necklace to you. But he left the money to your mother, whom he always loved; and the necklace I got rid of, as I told you, as I feared for its luck. But it must be got back from your mother. We will go to her house now." By this time they were at Liverpool Street Station, and the conversation was interrupted for a time. But shortly they were seated in a cab, as Durban thought he could talk more freely in one than if the two returned to Kensington by the underground railway. As the hansom rolled down Ludgate Hill, and on to the Embankment, the old servant renewed the conversation. "We will meet Major Ruck at The Camp, missy, and give him the necklace, as I don't want you to have it." "But could we not break it up and destroy the bad luck?" argued the girl. "It seems a pity to throw away ten thousand pounds on Major Ruck, especially as Mr. Paslow needs money." "You will have your father's money," said Durban obstinately. "I shall make your mother give it to you. Of course, as you were thought to be dead, Lady Watson got the money, and no doubt has spent it. But she will have to refund it out of Alpenny's legacy. There will be no need to employ lawyers: I can force her to do what I want." "Does she know that--that----" Beatrice hesitated. "That I killed Alpenny? No; she does not know that. But she thinks that I killed my master--as though I would have hurt a hair of his dear head!" "And I don't believe that you killed Alpenny either." "Yes I did, missy," said Durban obstinately. "He wanted to make your life a misery, and I was right to kill him." Beatrice said nothing for a few moments. With a white man it would have been different; but Durban had negro blood in his veins, and did not look upon murder as a more civilised person would have done. Beatrice was horrified inwardly, but she controlled herself sufficiently to keep quiet. After all, Durban had committed the crime for her sake; and much as she reprobated his wickedness--if wickedness it could be called, to kill so evil-living a man as the usurer--she could not find it in her heart to condemn him to the uttermost. "How did you kill him?" she asked in a low voice. "I did not go to town that night. I returned to see him, and had a quarrel in the counting-house. He was violent and flew at me. I had a struggle with him, and killed him. That is all!" he ended with apparent indifference.