"
Mr. Cuthbert sat down heavily in his chair.
"But, my dear young lady," he said, "you do not suspect Mr. Trent
of - er - making away with your father!'
"And why not? According to his own showing they were alone together
when he died. What was to prevent it? I want to know more about
it, and I am going to, if I have to travel to the Gold Coast myself.
I will tell you frankly, Mr. Cuthbert - I suspect Mr. Scarlett Trent.
No, don't interrupt me. It may seem absurd to you now that he is
Mr. Scarlett Trent, millionaire, with the odour of civilisation
clinging to him, and the respectability of wealth. But I, too, have
seen him, and I have heard him talk. He has helped me to see the
other man - half-savage, splendidly masterful, forging his way
through to success by sheer pluck and unswerving obstinacy. Listen,
I admire your Mr. Trent! He is a man, and when he speaks to you
you know that he was born with a destiny. But there is the other
side. Do you think that he would let a man's life stand in his way?
Not he! He'd commit a murder, or would have done in those days, as
readily as you or I would sweep away a fly. And it is because he
is that sort of man that I want to know more about my father's
death."
"You are talking of serious things, Miss Wendermott," Mr.
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