"I know nothing," snapped the man angrily, and wiping his swarthy face with a duster. "Master sent me to London last night, as you knew, missy. I only came down by the morning train, and walked here, in time to find you with Mrs. Snow. What did she want?"
Beatrice smiled faintly in her turn. "Subscriptions for the church spire, which was blown down last night."
"Oh! That was the excuse?"
"Excuse for what, Durban?"
"To see you, missy, and learn---- But there!" Durban turned away. "She came here to make mischief between you and master. Thank Heaven he is dead, and you will get the money. Mrs. Snow can't harm you now."
"Why should she wish to harm me, Durban?"
"That's a long story, missy. Now that the master is dead, I can tell it to you. But first we must learn who killed----"
"I know," interrupted Beatrice quickly; "a tall man, with a black patch over his left eye."
Durban turned greener than ever. "How do you know that, missy?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"I saw him when the gates were open, about nine o'clock last night."