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"Your father holds an important post and your friends are well-known people," he began. "I expect you value their rather exclusive society."
"What has this to do with you?" Flora asked.
Peters made a deprecating gesture. "Wyndhams' has now some standing on the exchange; the house's credit is pretty good, and people are beginning to think your husband a clever business man. Wyndham is clever, but for a man to build up a business he must be known for something else. If he wants to command people's trust, he must keep certain rules."
"I suppose that is so," Flora agreed with forced carelessness.
"Very well," said Peters. "I'm afraid Wyndhams' new prosperity rests on an unsafe foundation. A statement about their trade on the Caribbean would shake it badly; in fact, I doubt if the house would stand the shock. A merchant must enjoy his customers' confidence and confidence is soon destroyed."
"You imply you could destroy the confidence people have in Wyndhams'?"
"It is possible. For all that, I hesitate-- You see, you, and to some extent Commodore Chisholm, would be involved in your husband's fall. But I needn't labor this. You know how prosperous conventional people treat friends who lose their place."
Flora struggled for calm, but her eyes flashed and the blood came to her skin.
"Oh," she said, forgetting the part she meant to play, "you want a bribe? Money to be silent? You could not rob my husband, so you came to me! You think I am weaker and you can work on my fears?"
"It looks as if he had told you something," Peters remarked coolly. "I do not think he has told you all."
There was a step on the path behind them and as Flora turned Marston advanced. His face was red and very grim. Bob was generally calm, but he was savage now.
"Suppose you leave the thing to me? I saw the fellow coming here," he said to Flora, and stopped in front of Peters. "You haven't gone yet? I had some trouble to get rid of you before, and don't mean to be bothered by you again. This is the last annoyance you will give us."
Moving forward deliberately, he seized the other and swung him off his feet. Peters was short and light, for fever had worn him thin; Marston was big and powerful. He got a good hold where the other's clothes were slack, and lifting him with a strong effort, went up the steps. Peters kicked and struggled. Marston gasped and when his hat fell off Flora laughed. She was moved by a reaction after the strain. When Marston reached the top step he held Peters over the edge of the wall.
"The tide's low," he said hoa.r.s.ely, with obvious disappointment. "I was going to throw you into the water."
"If you drop me, somebody would find me on the rocks," Peters replied in a breathless voice, and Flora tried to stop her wild laughter. Her control was vanishing and the scene was ludicrous. Peters had looked grotesque while he wriggled in Bob's grasp and now his coolness supplied a last touch of grim humor.
"I don't know if it's worth while to go to jail for you and perhaps it's not," Marston gasped. He put Peters down and shook him savagely. "For a blackmailer, you're a poor sort of fool. Can't you see yet how you've muddled things? You can't tell Mrs. Wyndham more than she knows, and I won't pay you to tell n.o.body else. You'll get no bribe for letting Wyndhams' carry on the lagoon trade, because the trade has stopped for good. It ought to be obvious that your hold on us has gone and now you're going too."
He paused and seizing Peter's shoulders turned him round and half pushed and half threw him across the terrace. Peters fell into a clump of shrubs, and getting up, stole away in silence. Then Marston turned to Flora.
"Sorry! I expect you don't approve, but I felt I must let myself go.
When people make me think about that confounded lagoon I get savage."
"I do approve," said Flora, trying to be calm. "Perhaps it wasn't really humorous, but I was forced to laugh. Did you meet Harry? He went to look for you."
"No," said Marston. "I want to see him, and after this little exploit expect you'll be glad to get rid of me. However, I think you have got rid of the other fellow."
He found Wyndham writing a letter in the hotel smoking-room, and sitting down opposite, waited until he looked up.
"I suppose you told Flora all about it," Marston remarked.
"I did. Your advice was good."
"It was better than I thought. If you had waited, Peters would have given her his story before she knew yours. I found him trying to begin it a few minutes since."
"Ah," said Wyndham, "it looks as if I had run some risk! After all, I don't know." He paused and resumed with emotion: "I admitted everything, but she trusts me yet; I think she would have trusted me had I put my confession off. It's strange, but I didn't know how staunch my wife is.
We'll let this go. What did you do with Peters?"
Marston laughed. "I came near to throwing him over the wall. Held him over the edge and wanted to let him drop; but the brute suggested that somebody would find him on the rocks. I saw the force of this, because the consequences would have been awkward now we have a big job on hand.
It's plain that you will need me."
"I do need you. It's lucky I have such a partner. I've got to make rest.i.tution and can't do so at my proper cost. Yet I've no claim; I cheated you, as I cheated my wife. I'm an unsuccessful rogue and didn't let my scruples bother me until I was found out."
"That's sentimental extravagance," Marston said with some embarra.s.sment.
"Anyhow, I am your partner and your responsibilities are mine. I don't disown my debts."
"The debts are heavy. I ran them up, without your knowing."
"We can pay," said Marston, smiling. "It won't break us; I'm pretty rich and mean to see you out. You can count on my help and my money; in fact, on all I can give. Now that's done with. There's no more to be said."
Wyndham gave him a quick, grateful glance. "Thanks! You're rash, but I must try not to disappoint you. Friendship like yours is rare."
When Marston went off, he sat for a time, looking straight in front. He felt slack and strangely humbled, but was conscious of a new resolve.
Although he had gone far down hill, it was, perhaps, not too late to stop. The climb back would be long and hard; he could never reach his wife's and his friend's level. All the same, he meant to front the ascent. They had borne much for him, he must, so far as he was able, try to repay them.
CHAPTER VIII
UP HILL
The smoking-room of the Marine Hotel at Carmeltown was crowded with yachtsmen on the evening after the channel regatta. Marston and Wyndham occupied a small table, the former trying to read a newspaper while the latter looked about. The big room echoed with voices, a haze of tobacco smoke drifted round the pillars, and now and then a peal of laughter marked the end of an Irish yachtsman's tale. For all that, Wyndham's face was rather grim, and Marston, looking up by-and-by, thought he was brooding.
"Hallo! Here's Elliot," he exclaimed. "S'pose he came across on the mailboat. I heard her whistle not long since. Thought he was going to stop and see if they could salve _Deva_. Anyhow, I'd like to hear about the collision and it looks as if he was making for us."
"Yes," said Wyndham. "I imagine he wants to see me."
Elliot crossed the floor, stopping now and then when somebody spoke to him, and after a time reached Marston's table, where he sat down.
"I've been trying to get to you for some minutes, but the Irishmen wouldn't let me pa.s.s. The news of my bad luck soon got across," he remarked.
"We didn't get much news," said Marston. "What about the boat?"
"She's gone; cut down to the bilge and sunk in six fathoms. No chance of salvage and the navigation board is going to blow her up."
Marston said he was sorry and asked about the collision.
"To begin with, I want a drink," said Elliot, who called a waiter and then resumed: "It was dark and hazy, and we were creeping up to the anchorage at Kingstown with all sail set. I was at the tiller, but the wind was very light and she would hardly steer; the tide was carrying her along. Jevons, looking out under the boom, said he saw a steamer's lights, but just then I heard a North-Wall boat in the fog. You know the noise they make when they're steaming fast, and the fog's pretty bad when those boats slow up. I knew she wasn't far off when I saw her lights; red, white, and green all together. That meant we had to do something quick."
Marston nodded. When a steamer's three lights are seen she is heading direct for the observer.
"Our flare wasn't handy, and the first match broke," Elliot resumed.
"Reckon I was awkward and not very cool. However, I got a light and it was a relief when her whistle indicated that she was changing her course; but while I was fumbling with the matches I forgot the other boat. So did Jevons; he owned it afterwards. The North-Wall man went past us, like a train, lights all over the pa.s.senger decks and a four-foot wave rolling off the bows. She left us dazzled and rather shaken, and then Jevons shouted that the other fellow was close ahead."