"So I did, and if he were I would not mind, since Huxham was a rogue. But from what Miss Faith—"
"Miss Huxham," interposed Bella hastily, "until this mystery is cleared up."
"Very good. Well, from what Miss Huxham overheard I am inclined to think that Vand murdered the old sailor, aided by his wife."
"For what reason?"
"You supplied it yourself, Miss Huxham; so that they might get his money."
"But what about Pence's confession?" said Cyril. "He might have committed the deed himself."
"No; he had no reason to kill the old man, who was on his side in the matter of the marriage with Miss Huxham here. Besides, if Pence was guilty he certainly would not have composed what he did, and assuredly would not have produced the one hundred pounds he stole. Now that his madness for Miss Huxham is past, Pence has behaved like a rational being, and will do his best to assist us in solving this mystery." Durgo paused, then turned to the white man. "Cyril Lister, you put an advertisement into several London papers a week ago?"
"Yes; I did so without telling you, as I hoped to surprise you with a letter from my father telling us of his whereabouts. How do you know?"
"I saw the Telegraph yesterday and also the Daily Mail," said Durgo, nodding approvingly; "you did well. Have you had any answer?"
"If I had you should have seen it," said Cyril, wrinkling his brows as he always did when he was perplexed. "What can have become of him?"