"Answer my question," he insisted. "What did you stay there for?"
"I not stay in their house," she parried.
"Never mind that. What did you stay around there for?"
Bela was cornered. True to her wild nature, her eyes turned desirously toward the open door. The bishop laid a hand on her arm.
"Tell the truth, my daughter," he said gently. "No one shall harm you."
Bela turned to him. "I am 'mos' white," she explained, as if he were the only reasonable person present. "I lak be wit' white people."
Here a titter passed over the native audience at what they considered her presumption. Bela's eyes flashed scorn on them. She forgot her terrors.
"I am not one of these!" she cried. "I am white! I want marry a white man!"
An odd start of surprised laughter escaped the white spectators. They glanced at each other to make sure they had heard aright.
"Oh!" cried Coulson. "Now we're getting down to it. The prisoner here was the one you picked out?"