"I am Durgo!" explained the negro, annoyed by her silence, as was apparent from the frown which wrinkled his eye-brows. "Where is my master?"
"I don't know where your master is," she replied, finding her tongue with some difficulty. "I do not know who your master is."
"My master," said the negro, "is my master. He came here two weeks and some days ago, more or less. I have come to find him. Where is he?"
"How can I tell you when I do not even know his name?" asked Bella sharply.
"His name is——" Durgo was about to satisfy her curiosity, when he caught sight of the photograph in the silver frame, which still stood on the table. With a guttural cry of delight, he caught this up in his huge hands. "Oh, my master! my master!" he gurgled, in an ecstasy of delight.
Bella stepped back a pace with a scared look. "Mr. Lister your master?"
Durgo nodded, and coolly slipped the photograph, frame and all, into the breast pocket of his tweed coat. "He is here! I shall find him," he remarked. "Did my master see Captain Huxham?"
"Yes," she replied mechanically.
"Did my master and Captain Huxham quarrel?"
"Yes," she replied again, and still mechanically.