"That may be," said Ambrose doggedly, "but a good servant makes a bad master. After all, he is not one of us. If you value my advice at all you will never let him know he is running things."
"How can I help it? I haven't told him yet what has happened; but Dr. Giddings and I agreed that he must be told. He never mixes with the natives."
"Of course he must know your father was wounded, but he needn't be told how seriously. If I were you I would make him inform me of every detail of the business on the pretext of repeating it to your father. And I would issue orders to him as if they came from your father's bed."
"How can I?" said Colina. "I know nothing of the business."
"I can help you," said Ambrose—"if you want me to. I know it."
"But, Ambrose," she objected, "what reason have you to feel so strongly against Mr. Strange?"
"No reason," he said; "only an instinct. I believe he's a crook."
"Father relies on him absolutely."
"Maybe his influence with your father was sometimes unfortunate."
Colina's eyebrows went up. "Influence! Father would hardly allow his judgment to be swayed by a breed."