Cyril and the girl looked at one another. Durgo was still a savage, in spite of the veneer of education and civilisation, which the missionaries had given him. He would have killed Huxham as easily as he would have killed a fly. Perhaps also Edwin Lister had become de-civilised, and had acted in the same way.
"But what has become of my father?" asked Cyril.
"You do not know?" inquired Durgo politely.
Cyril shook his head. "I do not know," he said gloomily, "unless, as you say, he murdered Huxham to get money, and then ran away into hiding. He may be on the Continent—in Paris."
"In that case, I shall hear from him soon," said Durgo, rising. "When I do, I shall let you know."
"Come back," said Cyril, in an even tone, as Durgo was about to stalk away, "it is necessary for me to have your assistance."
"In what?" asked Durgo, looking over his huge shoulder.
"In finding my father."
"But if he is in Paris, I can go there."
"Have you the money?"