"Have you a description of the knife," asked Bella.
"I read it in the newspapers," said the negro. "When you told me of your father's death, I read the papers."
"You can read."
"I can read and write and do many things," said Durgo quietly. "I have a black skin, but my education has not been neglected."
"So I should think from the way in which you speak English."
"The missionaries taught me much, and Edwin Lister taught me the rest."
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 title 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 gratitude. 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——"