A RECOGNITION
Bella found the interviews with Cyril eminently unsatisfactory. It was perfectly plain that he entertained strong suspicions regarding the unknown person whom she termed his double. But even when questioned point-blank he declined to explain himself. Yet if Lister knew of someone who resembled him more or less closely he surely could place his hand on that someone. When he did so the assassin of Captain Huxham would speedily be found. This being the case it was strange that Cyril should hesitate, and again and again Bella questioned him bluntly, only to find him more determined than ever to keep his own counsel. Under these circumstances it was useless to prolong the conversation, and the girl left the cottage feeling extremely despondent. It seemed to her that the problem would never be solved, in spite of the certainty she entertained that Cyril could solve it if he so wished.
Nor did Bella feel any brighter when she returned to the Manor, for Mrs. Coppersley chose to take umbrage at her niece's absence. Bella declined to say where she had been, and dismissed the matter in a few cold words. Not feeling sure of her ground, Mrs. Coppersley retreated for the time being, but next day returned to the attack with the evident object of making the Manor-house too hot for the girl. Bella was strong enough to quell open mutiny on the part of her aunt, but she could not defend herself against incessant nagging. Since the death of her brother, Mrs. Coppersley had become as bold as hitherto she had been meek, and in many skilful ways contrived to make her niece feel thoroughly uncomfortable. As Bella had quite enough to bear without being taxed further with these petty worries she became restive, and on the third day of hostilities demanded what her aunt meant by behaving so aggressively. Mrs. Coppersley, better at ambushes than in open warfare, would have shirked the battle, but Bella forced the quarrel since it was absolutely necessary to bring matters to a head.
"You never leave me alone, Aunt Rosamund," she complained wearily.
"Because you are a drone," retorted Mrs. Coppersley. "You eat, yet you do not work. And as St. Paul says——"
"I don't wish to hear what St. Paul says, thank you."
"It would be better if you did. I have your good at heart."
"Nothing of the sort; you merely wish to get rid of me."
Mrs. Coppersley grew vividly red, but did not make any denial. "Why should I not?" she cried loudly. "You treat me as though I were dirt under your feet, miss. Who are you to behave like this, I should like to know?"
"I am my father's daughter," said Bella, very distinctly, "who have been cheated out of my inheritance."