"I don't like them myself," said Bella quietly, "and you may be sure, had I not been anxious to learn the truth, I should not have spoken to Durgo." "You could have asked me to speak." "Would you have done so, seeing that you did not believe that the papers existed?" "Nor do I believe now," replied Cyril, walking on quickly. "It is all guess work on your part." "No, no, no!" insisted the girl, as they arrived at their favourite spot under a giant gorse bush; "the mere fact that Mr. Pence told a lie about his injury shows me that I am right." "We don't know for certain that he met with his injury at Durgo's hands." "Then I have done no wrong," said Bella promptly. "Indeed you have," said Cyril in vexed tones, as they sat down. "You spurred on that infernal nigger to do what was wrong." "I understood that you liked Durgo, and thought him a well-educated man." "So I do like him; so I do consider him wonderfully well educated. He is an Oxford M.A., you know. But I daresay if you scratched him you would find that he is a common nigger after all." "The son of a king?" "An African king. Pooh! what's that? You must promise me, Bella, not to have anything more to do with him." "But I have promised to seek for the jewels in the Manor-house," and Bella went on to state how she could enter Bleacres by the secret door. Cyril nodded and approved of the idea. "But you must come to me and tell me what you find out. I don't want you to speak to Durgo more than you can help." "That is racial instinct and injustice." "Racial instinct is never unjust. I don't care if Durgo was a black Homer and Bismark and Napoleon rolled into one. He is a man of colour, and I detest the breed. Promise not to have anything to do with him--at all events unless I am present." "I promise if you will not scold so much," said Bella wilfully. "I am not scolding. If I did you would cry." The girl slipped her arm within that of her lover's, pleased to have escaped so easily. "I begin to think that I am marrying a tyrant." "You are marrying a man who loves you, and who wants to protect you from all dangers. Oh, Bella, Bella! I wish we could go away to London and get married quietly. Then we could go to Australia and leave this bad past behind. Will you come? I have money enough for a year, and by that time I'll be able to get something to do in Melbourne or Sydney." Bella shook her head. "Dear, I love you dearly, but I can't marry you until I am quite sure that I am not Captain Huxham's daughter." "In any case," said Cyril bitterly. "You will marry the son of a man who has committed a murder." "I am not so sure of that. Now that Mr. Pence has told a lie I think that he may have something to do with the matter. He may be guilty." Cyril groaned. "I have no ill-will towards Pence, in spite of his insolence to you, but for the sake of my name I wish I could think so."