I found Christine standing on the deck at the head of the
companion-way.
She looked terribly pale, and as I approached she started towards me
with a little sob of relief.
"Oh, thank God!" she whispered. "Thank God you're safe!"
She took my hands, and a low cry escaped her at the sight of their
scarred and bleeding knuckles.
"It's nothing, darling," I said reassuringly. "That's only a little
blood from Manning's nose. He's got plenty left to go on with."
With something between a laugh and another sob she let her head sink
forward against my shoulder. "Don't think me a coward. I--I'm not
one really. It was just having to wait here and----"
"A coward!" I interrupted. "Why, I think you're the bravest girl
that ever stepped this earth."
I put my arms round her, and for one dear moment she lay there
passive and still, like a tired, contented child.
Then, suddenly releasing herself, she gazed round in a kind of
startled panic.
"But we mustn't stay here," she exclaimed hurriedly. "We must go at
once."
"I suppose you're right," I admitted with some reluctance. "What's
happened to that ruffian Craill?"
"He went off in the other boat just after I arrived. He might come
back at any moment."
"Well, I want to see him," I said; "but I don't think I'll wait now.
It's a pity to cram all one's pleasures into one afternoon."
She laid her hands pleadingly on my sleeve. "Do what I ask," she
begged. "Promise me you will go straight back to the island as soon
as you have taken me ashore?"
"I am not going to take you ashore," I said. "You are coming home
with me."
She made a quick gesture of protest, but I went on without giving her
time to answer.
"There's no other way out of it," I said, speaking with the utmost
seriousness. "After what's happened this afternoon you have simply
got to tell me the truth. Don't you see, dear, you and I are in this
together, and unless I know----"
"Yes, yes," she interrupted breathlessly, "I must tell you; I had
already made up my mind to do it." She paused in piteous hesitation.
"I daren't come to the island, though," she added; "if anyone saw
us----"
"No one can possibly see us," I objected. "It's a hundred times
safer than any other place. We can talk comfortably there, and I can
row you ashore afterwards and land you wherever you like. This fog's
not going to lift for another twenty-four hours."
I don't think I really convinced her; she seemed to give in to my
will through utter weariness.
"Perhaps you're right," she faltered. "I can't argue with you
anyhow. I--I'm too tired."
With a sudden remorse for my lack of consideration, I helped her
tenderly down the ladder. Everything in the dinghy was soaking, and,
in spite of her remonstrances, I insisted on removing my coat and
spreading it on the wet seat.
"I won't try and talk to you while I'm rowing," I said. "There's a
pretty stiff stream running, and I shall want all my energy to get
back to the island. Besides, the quieter we keep the better."
She nodded her head to show that she understood, and, having cast off
the painter, I took my place at the oars.
The first few strokes were a bit painful on account of my damaged
knuckles, which started bleeding afresh the moment I closed my hands.
They soon ceased to smart, however; and, keeping the same course as
before, I plugged steadily along, until the mouth of the creek opened
up dimly on my left-hand side. A short but strenuous battle with the
current brought me safely across to the landing-stage, where I
grabbed hold of the chain and waved a triumphant greeting to
Christine.
"Welcome!" I said "Welcome to Greensea Island!"
She smiled back at me, such a wan, pathetic little smile that I
impulsively leaned over and pressed her hand.
"My own dear," I whispered, "you have just got to be happy.
Remember, you are coming home for the first time."
I felt her fingers squeeze mine gently in return; then with a sudden
trace of shyness she pushed them away and got up quickly from her
seat.
"You must be wet through," she said, "and as for your poor coat--"
She held it up with an expression of penitent dismay. "You will have
to go and change everything directly we get to the house."
"Oh, it won't hurt me," I protested. "I've been drenched so often
that I can't catch a cold even if I try."
I steadied the boat while she stepped out, and then, jumping ashore
myself, led the way forward in the direction of the shrubbery.
As we entered the path, and the gloom of the trees closed in about
us, she slipped her arm through mine.
"It's not a very cheerful place, is it?" she said with a slight
shiver.
"Don't judge us too quickly," I returned. "Wait till we reach the
house. Things will seem quite different as soon as you've had a cup
of tea."
She smiled again, this time a little more happily, and without any
further attempt at talking I piloted her through the rest of the
shrubbery and opened the iron gate which led on to the lawn. The
vague outline of the roof and chimneys were just visible opposite.
"That's my ancestral home," I said. "Unfortunately it's not looking
its best to-day."
Christine made no reply; she had let go my arm and stood quite still
beside me, gazing ahead into the mist with a strange and eager
interest.
"One mustn't grumble though," I added philosophically. "After all,
if it wasn't for the fog you wouldn't be here."
We set out across the grass, and, just as we were approaching the
verandah, I suddenly remembered that I had bolted the front door on
the inside. I did not want to take Christine to the back entrance,
for fear that she might catch sight of Bascomb digging the grave. It
would be a gruesome discovery to run up against unexpectedly,
especially for anyone whose nerves were already strained almost
beyond the point of endurance.
"If you don't mind waiting here a couple of seconds," I said, "I'll
slip round and let you in. The place is locked up, and my man will
probably be out in the garden."
"I shall be all right," she said. "It was only the trees that made
me fed a little creepy."
Leaving her where she was, I hurried along the verandah, and turned
off down the side walk which led past the kitchen window. Directly I
got round the corner I heard the sound of Bascomb's spade, but it was
not until I was within a few feet of him that his figure suddenly
emerged from the mist. He was standing beside a large hole, peering
forward in the direction of the path.
"How are you getting on?" I asked, pulling up short.
"It's pretty nigh finished," he answered slowly. "I've put 'im down
deep, so as 'e can lie quiet without bein' shifted."