"Durban arranged that," said Lady Watson promptly. "He was almost mad when he found the Colonel was dead, and he forced the truth out of me. I believe Julia Snow told him what she had seen. I knew Durban would say nothing, because if he hated me, he loved you and your father. He did hold his tongue, but he insisted that Alpenny should give the necklace to him in trust for you. Of course Alpenny would not do so, and Durban threatened to inform the police. Then Durban, who didn't know much about English law, thought that he might get into trouble and be accused. I really don't know," added Lady Watson, pondering, "if I didn't threaten to accuse him." "Oh, how could you?" "Well, he might be guilty. Niggers always prefer to cut throats, and your father certainly died in that horrid way." "The man with the black patch killed him?" "Did he? I heard something about that; but I'm not sure. However, to make a long story short, Durban arranged that you should be taken charge of by Alpenny, and that he should look after you along with Amelia, who was consumptive." "But why?" Lady Watson rose wrathfully. "You may well ask that, Beatrice. Why? Because, if you please, this nigger didn't think I was a proper person to look after you. Then Amelia refused to go to The Camp unless she went--as she said, respectably. Alpenny, who was in love with me, and knew that I intended to marry Sir Reginald, agreed to marry her in order to keep the necklace. Amelia died shortly afterwards, and for the sake of safety was buried as your mother: you took her name of Hedge, you know. That's the story." "It is a very horrible one," said Beatrice, rising in her turn. Lady Watson burst into tears. "It is not my fault," she sobbed. "I'm sure, in spite of Reginald's objections, I would have kept you beside me; only Durban took you away, and Amelia also, because she wanted to marry a rich man, as Alpenny was supposed. They knew too much; I had to yield; and then Reginald thought you were dead. But I have always loved and longed for my pretty baby. Kiss me, darling!" "No," said Beatrice sternly. The little woman looked up aghast. "Your own mother?" "I do not look upon you as my mother," said the girl coldly. "You deserted me in the most heartless manner. I don't know how much of your story is true----" "It is all true--I swear it." "It may be, and you may be innocent. But to see my father lying dead, and not give the alarm, was wicked. The assassin might have been caught and----" "I would have been caught!" cried Lady Watson vehemently. "As it was, people thought that I had something to do with the horrid thing. I was quite innocent," she protested, sobbing. "Beatrice!" Her voice rose to a scream as the girl walked to the door for the second time. "I am going," said Beatrice quietly. "You must give me time to think over our new relationship. I'll see you again soon."