"I have loved her for three hundred years!" insisted Akira, smiling.
"I don't believe in that rubbish."
Mara seized her lover's hand. "I am tired of all this," she said in her old fashion, "why can't you leave me alone. I marry the Count!"
Colpster saw that, whether he gave his consent or not, she would certainly do so. And, after all, as he asked himself, what did it matter? Mara had never displayed any affection for any single person, since she had always lived in a dream-world of her own. Now that he had decided to leave the property to Basil and Patricia on condition that they assumed the name of Colpster, Mara was unnecessary. Finally, it was certain that she would be happier in Japan than in England, since there was evidently no future for her in the West. The Squire did not believe in reincarnation. All the same, he admitted that Mara's many oddities suggested that she was a soul born out of time and place. But that his daughter should marry one of the yellow race offended the old man's pride. He was just about to open his mouth and refuse permission again when Akira spoke blandly.
"If you consent," said Akira, "I will send you someone who can tell you who killed your housekeeper."
"How do you know?" asked Colpster, startled.
"I have been making inquiries in town. Consent, and you shall know all."
"And consent," said Mara, stepping up to her father and bending to whisper in his ear, "or I shall tell the Count that you have the emerald."
Colpster turned white. "How do you know?" he whispered back.
"I saw you slip it under your pillow one day. It is there now. If you don't let me marry the Count he shall take it from you now."