Tera began to be frightened. There was a look on Jack's face she had never seen before.
"Why do you look so?" she faltered. "Am I a bad girl? Oh no. Poor Tera is good to you. She brings you this money; she gives you her pearls."
"There is some devilry about this," cried Jack, hoarsely, seizing her wrist. "I don't believe you killed the girl. Tell me the story you told Rachel, and how you got this money. Quick! Every word."
Tera collapsed on to the floor and began to weep.
"Aué!" she wailed, rocking herself to and fro, "you are cruel to poor Tera. Aué!"
"Tell me the story. I'll swear you did not murder the girl. Tolai, sit in that corner," he added, for the Polynesian was much distressed by Tera's tears. "Obey me at once, or I'll sling you overboard. Now then, Tera, tell me the truth."
But it was not so easy to loosen Tera's tongue. She was half-angry with Jack, and half-frightened of his stern manner. However, by coaxing and threatening and commanding, he managed to extract from her the story she had told Rachel, in order to obtain the money. When he was in full possession of the facts, he took a turn round the cabin. He was in despair. Knowing that Tera was half a savage, he saw no reason to doubt the truth of her statement. She did not regard murder with the horror of a European. She did not think it was a particularly great sin, in spite of her Christian training. Jack loved the girl, and wished to marry her, particularly as the marriage would place him comfortably and influentially in the semi-savage life he found most congenial. But it seemed that Tera had killed the unhappy Zara in a most cold-blooded way, and with the slightest of motives. He did not care to take the murderess to his bosom.
In the mean time Tera sat on the cabin floor in a sulky frame of mind. Privately she considered that she had tricked Rachel out of her money in a very clever way, and deserved praise rather than blame. She could not understand why her lover made such a fuss over such a small matter as the murder of this wretched girl. He could have killed a dozen in Koiau without causing her the least annoyance. So she sat still, weeping and sulking, and very much inclined--with the pettish temper of a childish nature--to end the whole trouble by throwing herself overboard. In spite of her conversion and education, poor wilful Tera had yet to learn the A B C of civilization.
"Tera," said Jack at length, in a grave voice, "this is a serious matter."
"I don't see that it is," whimpered the girl. "You didn't love Zara."