"I cannot believe it," cried Rachel, in horror.
"Just as you please, but I am telling you the truth."
"Tera! Bithiah! Do you mean to say that you strangled Zara?"
"Ioé," said Tera, pettishly. "How often am I to speak?"
Rachel looked at her in horror. She knew that, in spite of her veneer of civilization, this native girl was a savage at heart. Doubtless she thought no more of taking a human life than an ordinary person would of killing a fly; but it was terrible to hear her admit the fact so calmly. In spite of the conviction which was stealing over her that Tera spoke the truth, Rachel tried her best to fight against it.
"I cannot believe it! I cannot!" she kept repeating; "you would not be so cruel."
"I was not cruel. She died very quietly. I pulled the cord tightly--and she was gone." And Tera, with a side-glance at her companion, chirrupped to the horse. She spoke quite frankly, for besides Rachel, who had paid her five hundred pounds for this information, there was only Tolai in the back seat to hear her. And even if the Polynesian had been able to understand her, she was in no danger from him.
Rachel shrank back from the girl with terror. "Bithiah! In God's name, why did you kill her? She had done you no harm."
"No. But I was afraid she would talk about our changing dresses, and Mr. Johnson would follow me. I thought it best to kill her," said Tera, calmly.
"I don't believe you," cried Rachel again; "you are making this up."