"Nor do I believe now," replied Cyril, walking on quickly. "It is all guess work on your part."
"No, no, no!" insisted the girl, as they arrived at their favourite spot under a giant gorse bush; "the mere fact that Mr. Pence told a lie about his injury shows me that I am right."
"We don't know for certain that he met with his injury at Durgo's hands."
"Then I have done no wrong," said Bella promptly.
"Indeed you have," said Cyril in vexed tones, as they sat down. "You spurred on that infernal nigger to do what was wrong."
"I understood that you liked Durgo, and thought him a well-educated man."
"So I do like him; so I do consider him wonderfully well educated. He is an Oxford M.A., you know. But I daresay if you scratched him you would find that he is a common nigger after all."
"The son of a king?"
"An African king. Pooh! what's that? You must promise me, Bella, not to have anything more to do with him."
"But I have promised to seek for the jewels in the Manor-house," and Bella went on to state how she could enter Bleacres by the secret door. Cyril nodded and approved of the idea.