A Bachelor Husband Part 19

He looked at his watch--it was half-past ten.

"It's time we went back," he said. He wondered uncomfortably what Feathers would say if he could see him now.

He went back to the side of the fishing smack where he had left the skiff, then he stifled an oath, for the painter he had fastened loosely to the rope-ladder had come untied and the skiff had drifted away.

Mrs. Heriot uttered a shrill scream when she saw what had happened.

She was really not in the least frightened; she loved sensation and what she was pleased to call "thrills"; and it was rather exciting to find herself in such a predicament with a man as good-looking and difficult as Christopher Lawless.

"Whatever shall we do?" she demanded in horror, and then, with a quick glance at his face: "Oh, you don't think that I let the boat go on purpose?"

She had not done so, but probably would have done had it occurred to her. Chris answered vehemently that such an idea had never entered his head, which was the truth. He was far too indifferent and unsuspecting to credit her with such an action.

"But what on earth are we to do?" she asked again, and Chris laughed rather mirthlessly.

"I must swim out and bring it back, of course,"

He took off his coat as he spoke and Mrs. Heriot screamed afresh.

"You might be drowned! The water looks awful in the moonlight! What will become of me here alone if anything happens to you?"

"Nothing will happen to me or you," said Chris impatiently, "and we can't stay here all night, can we?"

He shook off her detaining hand and clambered up the ship's side.

Mrs. Heriot hid her face.

"I shall go mad if anything happens to you," she said hysterically.

Chris dived without answering.

He came up breathless and spluttering. The water was very cold, and he was hampered by his clothes, but he got hold of the skiff and dragged it back to the ship's side, clambering up again by the rope ladder.

"You'll take your death of cold," said Mrs. Heriot tragically, but she did not attempt to touch him again. In his drenched condition he did not look very romantic with his collar as limp as muslin and his hair plastered down on his forehead.

"It was so brave of you," she murmured.

"It was folly ever to have come," Chris said. He steadied the skiff while she climbed back into it, then he followed and pushed off.

"What in the world will people say?" Mrs. Heriot asked hysterically.

Chris looked at her; his teeth were chattering a little.

"What can they say? It was an accident."

"I know, but they won't believe it. People are so uncharitable."

His face darkened.

"I don't understand you."

She looked a little ashamed.

"It is so late, and for you and I--to be out here alone ..."

Chris pulled harder at the sculls; he knew there was something in what she said, but he answered doggedly:

"They must believe what they choose, that's all."

She covered her face with her hands.

"I can't face it," she whispered. "I've always hated scandal. And ...

oh, what will your wife think, Chris?"

Chris bit his lip; he had forgotten Marie.

"She will believe what I tell her," he answered at last quietly.

"And if you prefer it I can land you further down the beach away from the hotel, so that n.o.body will know we were together. I dare say I can get in and change my things without being seen."

She broke out into gushing thanks.

"I never thought of that! Of course, it will be all Right! n.o.body saw us come out together. I can go in through the garden door."

"Very well." He did not speak again until they were close in sh.o.r.e.

Then he said: "I can beach her here--you will not mind going back to the hotel alone?"

"Oh, no--but, Chris ... you can't, you simply mustn't tell your wife."

He looked up at her with cold eyes.

"I don't understand you,"

"I know you don't, because you're so nice, so straight. But can't you see--on your honeymoon! It will look so bad, and I'm sure she will be jealous. People with dark eyes like hers are always dreadfully jealous." Her eyes fell before his steady gaze. "She will hate me," she whispered. "And I don't deserve it--you know that."

There was a little silence, then---

"Very well," said Chris shortly. "I will not tell her." He waited till she was safely up the beach, then he pulled out to sea again, and came ash.o.r.e lower down. The owner of the boat was not to be seen, and Chris tied it up securely and ran for the hotel. If only it had been a dark night, he thought as he ran. The cursed moon made everything so light; but he got into the garden without being seen, by keeping well in the shadow of trees and bushes, and had almost reached the door when he ran right into Feathers.

Chris swore under his breath. He would have gone on without speaking, but Feathers caught his arm.

"Hullo!" And then: "Good Lord, Chris, you're soaking wet. Not another accident, surely? Who have you pulled out--this time?"

"Myself. I went out in a skiff and the d.a.m.ned thing upset."

He told the lie badly and, conscious of the fact, he went on hurriedly: "Here, I want to change. I'm as cold as blazes. You needn't say anything to Marie--it will only upset her."

Feathers stood aside silently and Chris went up to his room.

He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He had a hot bath before he got into dry clothes.