CHAPTER XIII
MRS. TUNKS' DISCOVERY
So far it appeared extremely probable that Edwin Lister was the assassin of Captain Huxham. From the evidence of her own eyes, Bella knew that Cyril's father had called to see the old sailor, and that she had not seen him depart was owing to the fact of the drugging. By putting laudanum in the girl's tea Huxham had precipitated his own death, since Bella, with her wits about her, might have made a third at the interview, and so the blow would not have been struck. Neither Bella nor Cyril thought that Edwin Lister had come to the Manor intending to murder Huxham, although it certainly seemed strange that the former should have carried with him the Nigerian knife with which the crime had been committed. But howsoever this particular point might be explained, it was probable that the tragedy was the outcome of a sudden quarrel.
Edwin Lister had profited but little by his crime, since the sum of one hundred pounds was all that he had been able to find in the safe. Certainly many papers had been carried away, but there was nothing to show that these were of value, save the fact that they had been thieved. If Edwin Lister could only be found, an explanation might be forthcoming; but he seemed to have vanished completely. It was not improbable that he had walked to Tarhaven, some miles away, to escape on a steamer to the Continent; but if this was the case it was strange that he had not communicated with his savage friend. Durgo was a man upon whom Edwin Lister could rely entirely, setting aside the fact that Durgo was needed to guide the expedition into the Hinterland of Nigeria, where the treasure was concealed. It was now some weeks since the death and burial of the skipper, but as yet Edwin Lister had given no sign of his existence. And until he did so, there was no chance of solving the mystery.
True to his promise, Cyril called at "The Chequers Inn" to see Durgo, and found that the negro was looked upon as a royal guest. The lean landlady believed him to be an African prince, on a secret mission to England concerning the missionary question. She was right in one way, for Durgo undoubtedly was a chief, and the son of a chief; but it was questionable if he was the friend of the missionaries. However—as Cyril found—he made this excuse for his presence in Marshely, and Mrs. Giles, the landlady, a red-hot fanatic, was delighted that her house should be so honoured. Also Durgo paid largely for the sitting-room and bedroom which he occupied.
Cyril was amazed when he called one evening, to see this same sitting-room, as he saw evidence of great luxury in the articles brought by the negro to decorate the somewhat bare apartment. The furniture of the parlour—as Mrs. Giles called it—was plain and cheap, but there were evidences that it was occupied by a wealthy guest. Indian coverlets, gorgeously embroidered, adorned the chairs; there were splendid wild-beast skins on the floor, and on the side-tables appeared several silver vases rudely but skilfully wrought. Cyril noted a bronze incense-burner in which pastilles smouldered, several small golden images of ugly tribal gods, some beautifully-made spears and war-clubs, brightly-hued feathers, curious shells, and photographs of native towns and their inhabitants. Why Durgo should travel with such a collection of rubbish was not clear; but probably he did so, that he might be surrounded by memorials of his sunny country in the land of fogs and greyness.
Durgo himself was a surprise, as he received Cyril in a well-made smoking suit, and, quite in the conventional manner, offered him cigarettes of a good brand and the orthodox whiskey and soda. "Or champagne if you prefer it," said Durgo, laying his black hand on the old-fashioned bell-rope.
"Coffee for me," said Lister, throwing himself into a comfortable arm-chair, and accepting a cigarette. "Do you know, Durgo, that you are something of a puzzle to me?"
The negro rang the bell, gave an order for coffee to Mrs. Giles, who entered, and when she had retired turned to his guest. "How so?" he asked.