“Choseph!” Beela’s voice rang sharp, and she angrily stamped. Then came a hopeless look.
I took her hands. “Come, dear friend,” I pleaded. “That was the last. I am wholly in your hands. And remember, there is always Christopher.”
She turned away with a sigh, and began to put finishing touches to our efforts at the restoration of neatness in the room. She was evidently gathering herself, for presently she came and took a seat facing me, Christopher standing. Her manner was serious.
“This is the case,” she said: “The king has meant always to be kind to Lentala and me, and we are grateful. We love the queen dearly. We would lay down our lives before permitting any harm to befall them.”
Her emotion made her pause.
“Serious dangers are threatening them now,—more than they suspect,—and these have come because of your people. Before that, only one or two would be cast up from the wrecks. They gave no trouble.”
Horror came into her face, and she looked away.
“I always supposed that they were sent off,” she resumed. “Never once did I suspect the truth until shortly before your party came, and then my affection for the king died in me, and I was sick at heart. I don’t think the queen knows the truth to this day. I think the king would have stopped it long ago, but for Gato, who wanted to use it to keep the natives in savagery. He is a bad man, with great power. When your large party came, he saw a way to break the king, stir the people to rebellion, kill the king and queen, and take the throne himself.”
“Does Gato suspect that you know this about him?” I asked in astonishment.
“No. There is where our safety lies. I never should have suspected him if he hadn’t made love to Lentala and told her that if she would marry him she would soon be queen,—the beast! Then we watched and found out.”