"For some little distance," replied Frank, always on his guard, but suspecting no evil on the part of his companion.
For a time they strolled on in silence, down the lane, and out on to the dusty white road. Then Darrel commenced to converse on indifferent matters, and told stories about Africa. Also he stated his experiences in America. "I was at Los Angeles," he said.
Frank remembered how at the theatre he had said that he met Berry at Los Angeles, but made no comment on the remark. Darrel still continued to talk, till they halted in a quiet side road, whence Frank branched off to the Shanty. There Darrel stopped. "Miss Starth is in love with you," he said abruptly, his jealous eyes on the young man's face.
"What do you mean?" demanded the secretary, indignantly.
"And you are in love with her," went on the Rhodesian.
"I don't know what right you have to say these things."
"This much right," said Darrel, calmly. "I love Miss Starth, and I intend to make her my wife. If you clear out and leave her alone, I'll say nothing; if you don't, I'll have you arrested. You understand me, Lancaster."
Frank's heart almost stood still. "I am not--"
"Bah!" said Darrel, cutting him short, and pointing to his left hand. "When you disguise yourself, you should remove your ring. I fancied it was your voice when you spoke, and I saw that habit you have of slipping that ring up and down your finger. Also the ring itself, I remember it quite well."
Frank cursed his folly. The ring was a noticeable one, set with two black pearls. More of a lady's ring than a man's it was, but he wore it because it had belonged to his mother. There was no chance of keeping up his assumed character in the face of such evidence. "But I assure you, Darrel, I am innocent," he protested.