"Is it anyone I know?"
"No."
"Is it——"
"Oh, my dear! don't ask questions which I dare not answer."
"You must answer," said Bella firmly. "I must share your griefs as well as sorrows. Tell me everything. Go on, Cyril, tell me quickly!"
"Hush!" Lister started to his feet with an alarmed look. "What's that? I swear that I heard a rustling in the underwood. Someone is listening." He glanced around anxiously, looking pale and nervous. Bella rose at the same time and caught his hand to give him courage, although she could not understand what he meant by his words and looks.
But the two had not to wait long. A distant crackling was heard, and in a moment or so a tall bulky man stepped from out the underwood.
"Durgo!" breathed Bella, recognising the negro.
He ran towards Cyril and dropped on his knees. "My master!" he cried; then leaped up. "You are not Edwin Lister," he growled with widely open eyes.
"My father! my father!" groaned Cyril in despair. "I knew it; I was certain of it. Now I know the worst," and he sat down to hide his face.