The Solitary Farm Part 22

Cyril frowned. "I notice that you do not say 'Mister' when you speak of my father," he said pointedly.

"I am a chief and the son of a chief," said Durgo proudly. "And for love of your father, who saved my life, I left my tribe and came with him. I called him master as a t.i.tle of honour because I loved him, so why should I not say Edwin Lister?"

Cyril, with the white man's inborn superiority, objected to this familiarity, and, but that Durgo's services were necessary to the unravelling of the mystery, would have pointed this out. As it was, he simply nodded and asked the black man to be more explicit. Durgo sat down and complied without any argument. His manners for a negro were singularly good.

"There is not much to tell," he said in his guttural tones. "Edwin Lister was my friend and a trader in Nigeria, my country. He saved my life from a lion and won my grat.i.tude. I helped him with his trading and left my tribe to do so. We heard of a treasure in the wilds of my country, and wished to fit out an expedition to find that treasure.

Edwin Lister did, that is, and I was glad to do as he desired. But we required money, and it could not be had. Edwin Lister then thought of an old friend of his, Captain Huxham, who had also been in Nigeria----"

"My father!" cried Bella, startled.

"Yes, missy," said Durgo, bending his head towards her with grave respect. "He was well known in Nigeria many years ago, as he had a river steamer there. Edwin Lister then came to London with me, and afterwards came to see Captain Huxham here. That was some weeks ago, and he promised me to return. As he did not, I came down and then heard of the murder of Captain Huxham. But where is my master, Edwin Lister?" and Durgo looked from one to the other.

"Have you not seen him since?" asked Cyril anxiously.

"No." Durgo shook his head profoundly.

"What do you think has become of him?" asked Cyril, still white.

Durgo reflected. "I think," he said gravely, "that Edwin Lister killed Captain Huxham and ran away. Soon he will write to me and I can join him. Then we can return to Nigeria and hunt for the treasure."

"But why should Mr. Lister kill my father?" asked Bella.

"He wanted money," said Durgo simply. "If Captain Huxham would not give the money, Edwin Lister would kill him. It is quite simple. But I wish,"

added the negro wisely, "that my master had let me kill Captain Huxham."

"Would you have done so?" cried Bella, horrified.

Durgo looked up in surprise. "Oh, yes, if Edwin Lister had wished it."

Cyril and the girl looked at one another. Durgo was still a savage, in spite of the veneer of education and civilisation, which the missionaries had given him. He would have killed Huxham as easily as he would have killed a fly. Perhaps also Edwin Lister had become de-civilised, and had acted in the same way.

"But what has become of my father?" asked Cyril.

"You do not know?" inquired Durgo politely.

Cyril shook his head. "I do not know," he said gloomily, "unless, as you say, he murdered Huxham to get money, and then ran away into hiding. He may be on the Continent--in Paris."

"In that case, I shall hear from him soon," said Durgo, rising. "When I do, I shall let you know."

"Come back," said Cyril, in an even tone, as Durgo was about to stalk away, "it is necessary for me to have your a.s.sistance."

"In what?" asked Durgo, looking over his huge shoulder.

"In finding my father."

"But if he is in Paris, I can go there."

"Have you the money?"

"I have plenty of money," said the negro with gravity. "I have my own money, so it is easy for me to search for my master."

"He may not be in Paris," said Cyril hastily; "that is only a guess on my part. Before searching for him over there, it will be best for you to a.s.sist me in looking for him in this district. He may be in hiding."

Durgo pondered, then returned to lie full-length on the gra.s.s. "I think that my master would have run further away after killing Captain Huxham," he said reflectively; "he is very cunning, is Edwin Lister.

And, of course, he would have the money."

"What money?" asked Bella impatiently.

"The money for which he killed Captain Huxham."

"The sum stolen was only worth a trifle: one hundred pounds is the amount."

"Oh!" Durgo opened his eyes. "And my master wanted five thousand. It is a very difficult expedition right into the centre of Nigeria, and one hundred pounds is of no use. I could have lent that amount to Edwin Lister myself. Hai!"--he nursed his chin in his hand--"what you say, missy, makes me think that my master is waiting here to get the money for which he killed Captain Huxham."

"My aunt, Mrs. Rosamund Vand, has both the money and the estate."

"Then Edwin Lister will wait and see her," said Durgo gravely. "I must learn where he is hiding," and he half rose again.

Cyril put out one slim hand to prevent him. "Wait for one moment," he said quietly, "you must hear what I have to say, and then we can arrange what to do. Durgo, you loved my father?"

The negro nodded. "I would rather lose my life than see him dead."

Cyril looked at him curiously. "Strange! I did not think that my father was a man to inspire such devotion."

"He saved my life," said Durgo impressively.

"Humph!" murmured Cyril under his breath. "I'll be bound if he did so, that he took back the full value of his heroic act."

Bella looked pained. "Cyril, why do you speak in that tone of your father?"

"Because I know him better than Durgo," he retorted. "My father is a--but that is neither here nor there"--he waved his hand impatiently.

"Durgo, I am about to speak plainly. I see that you love my father, so I don't wish to hurt your feelings. All the same, I must tell you something about my father which you will not like."

"Let me hear," said Durgo frowning, "and I can judge. But you are his son----"

"And therefore should speak well of him," ended Cyril bitterly. "I wish I could, but I have suffered too much at my father's hands to have any love for him. However, I shall be as brief as possible."

"And as kind," said Durgo meaningly.

"And as kind as I can be," retorted the young man cynically; "although my father will be the first to laugh at the idea of my talking kindly of him."

"He loves you," said the negro rebukingly.

"Did he ever tell you that?"

"No. He never mentioned your existence."

"Judge then how he loves me," said Cyril coolly.