CHAPTER XII
CYRIL'S STORY
Bella looked from the astonished Durgo to the despairing Lister, and wondered what the scene meant. That the matter at issue was serious Cyril's demeanour gave her fully to understand. But what the matter might be she could not guess, save that it had something to do with this mysterious double who had caused all the commotion. The negro appeared to be as puzzled as herself, and stared at the seated figure with an open mouth, scratching his woolly head meanwhile.
"Not my master, but like my master," he muttered, staring hard, and speaking in his usual guttural manner but not in the usual negro dialect, so rude and clipped. "If you're not my master, Edwin Lister," he added, addressing himself to the young man, "who are you, sir?"
"Answer him, Cyril," said Bella, seeing that her lover did not speak. "Did you ever see this man before?"
Lister looked up, pale and hollow-eyed. "Never," he said briefly.
"Did you ever meet Mr. Lister before?" Bella asked the negro.
"Lister! Lister!" gasped Durgo, retreating a step. "Is this young gentleman called Lister?"
"Cyril Lister," said that young man.