"With all my soul!" she said vehemently. "Ah, you think because I am black that I have no feelings. But I did love him. He was going to marry me--yes. I am rich, and I could have bought him." "You certainly gave him your photograph," said Jarman; "but if you come from America, how did you write those Arabic words?" "I did not. It was a Malay who wrote them for me. I wanted Walter to think that I came from Zanzibar. I did not want him to know anything about San Francisco." "Why not?" "I sha'n't tell you. I have my own secrets. Again I ask why you question me in this way?" "Because I am a friend of Lancaster's, and I want to prove his innocence." "He is not innocent!" cried Balkis, with a lowering brow. "He killed my Walter. Tamaroo says he did not, and I have not made up my mind to harm him yet." "Harm who--Tamaroo?" "No; the man Lancaster. I can get rid of him in my own way." "I see. You have something to do with Obi." Balkis shuddered, and her face turned grey. "Hush! Say not that dread name," she said, looking round fearfully. "Why do you, a white man, talk of Obi? You are not of us--you know nothing of the fetish." "No; but I have travelled in the West Indies. You know how to prepare the poisons that are used in connection with Obi"--again the negress shuddered--"so you propose to get rid of Lancaster by giving him poison. Well, that is better than being hanged. But how are you going to get Lancaster here? He has disappeared." "I know how to get him when I want," said Balkis, sulkily. "Tamaroo is his friend, and Tamaroo also loves the fetish." "Not to such an extent as to make Lancaster over to you for you to practise your devilish arts on him," said Eustace, indignantly. "Or do you intend to put him into your secret rooms, and get rid of him as you would rid yourself of the police did they raid the place?" "Burl again!" said the woman, with a snarl, and showing a magnificent set of white teeth. "She told you a lot. If I get her here again she will have the chance of seeing how I can rid myself of those I do not like." She paused, then said abruptly: "There are no rooms." "That means you don't trust me yet," said Jarman, feeling in his pocket. He determined as a last resource to make use of the letter written by Fairy Fan. For this moment had he procured it. "Did Starth love you?" he asked, looking at her. "Yes. He was going to marry me. But he was killed, and I shall avenge his death. If Lancaster killed him Lancaster shall die." Jarman spoke plainly. "Do you know Miss Berry? Well, she also loved Starth, and he promised to marry her." Balkis gave a yell like that of an enraged lioness. "It is not true--not true," she said, in guttural tones. "A lie! A lie! A lie!" She danced and stamped as she reiterated the word. "He loved me, and me only! He said so! He was to marry me." "He was to marry Miss Berry. Here is the proof," and Eustace handed her the letter, which she snatched from him eagerly.