"Are you sure?" he asked breathlessly as they ran. "How can a car have got into the river?"

They were at the water's edge now and holding the lamp low down, they could see the wheel tracks through the damp, short gra.s.s on the bank and the broken rushes where the car had taken its plunge.

The river was deep there, but if it had been half the depth the danger would have been almost as great, for Chris knew that the car would in all probability have turned over had it been going even at a moderate speed. He flung off his coat and, making a cup of his hands, shouted into the darkness:

"Hullo! Hullo!" And the same terrified voice cried in answer, only weaker now, and choking, as if already the silent flowing water had begun to take its toll.

Chris caught up the strap. He fastened one end round his wrist and gave the other to the man, who stood shaking and helpless beside him:

"Here! Take this, and don't let it go! I'm going in!"

He took the plunge through the darkness blindly. The water was icy cold as it closed over his head, and he could feel the rushes and weeds clutching at him as he struggled up to the surface.

He shouted again breathlessly, and the faint cry came again close beside him this time, it seemed.

He struck out desperately, every nerve strained, and then suddenly his hand came into contact with something which at first he thought was a man's arm, but it seemed to slip beneath the water before he could grip it.

He groped round desperately, cursing the darkness, and his fingers caught in the soft silkiness of a woman's hair.

There was no mistaking it this time. Twisting it anyhow about his wrist and arm so she could not slip from him, he turned for the bank again, guided by the strap which still held.

He was hampered by his clothes and the weight of the woman, though from what he could tell she seemed small and light enough, and he was almost exhausted by the time he reached the bank.

There were several figures there now, and a lantern flashed a bright light into his face as willing hands dragged him ash.o.r.e with his burden.

He fell heavily as soon as he reached the bank and lay p.r.o.ne for a moment, panting and exhausted.

Someone came to his help, but he waved him away.

"I'm all right--there's another out there--a man, I think."

Presently he struggled to his feet. The mist seemed to have risen a little, and above it a pale moon gleamed faintly down on to the silent river.

A small boat had been pushed off from the bank, and Chris could hear the splash of sculls through the mist.

A group of men were bending over the figure of a girl lying on the bank--the girl he had pulled from the water, Chris supposed. He drew a little nearer, and looked down at her as she lay there, the light of the lantern falling on her upturned face. Then he gave a great cry of agony and fell on his knees beside her, clutching her limp body with desperate hands for the girl was his own wife--Marie Celeste.

CHAPTER XXIV

"World if you know what is right, Take me in his stead, Bury me deep out of sight, I am the one that's dead."

THEY took Marie back to the Yellow Sheaf Inn, on the Oxford road, carrying her on a rough stretcher made of a broken gate, covered with coats, and Chris walked beside her, holding her hand in his.

A doctor had come from Somerton, and they took her away from him upstairs, and shut the door.

The woman who kept the inn came up to him as he stood on the landing outside her room and tried to persuade him to come away and change his wet clothes.

"You'll take your death of cold," she said in kindly anger.

"There's a suit of my husband's that you're welcome to, sir, I'm sure."

Chris thanked her absently, but hardly heard what she was saying.

In his heart he was sure that Marie was dead, though as yet the shock of the tragedy kept him from feeling anything acutely.

It was a nightmare as yet--that was all! And he had the childish feeling that if he were patient, he would wake up and be able to laugh at it all.

Presently the woman climbed the stairs again with a cup of steaming coffee, into which she had put a strong dose of brandy. She stood over him as if she had been his mother while he drank it.

"It's no use everyone getting ill," she scolded. "If the poor dear in there wants you, you won't be in a fit state to go to her."

She had struck the right note, and Chris went off obediently to change his clothes.

The mist seemed to have quite cleared away as he looked towards the window for a moment, and there was bright moonlight--as bright as it had been that night when he went out on to the sea with Mrs.

Heriot and the skiff broke away--so long ago it seemed!

He shivered, and went back to the door of Marie's room.

Feathers was dead--he knew that now--but as yet had not been able to realize it. He knew that down on the river bank men were still searching for him--unsuccessfully. It was a horrible thought. He knew he would never be able to rid himself of the feeling of those slimy reeds and rushes that had tried to drag him down with them.

Feathers was dead! Chris knew that it must have been his arm about which his groping fingers had first closed. He shut his eyes with a sense of physical sickness.

Where was this tragedy, which had begun with his own selfishness, going to end?

Supposing Marie died, too! He gripped his arms above his heart as if to still the terrible pain that was rending him. He did not deserve that she should live, he knew. His face was ashen when presently her door opened and the doctor came out.

He was a young man and sympathetic. He put a kindly hand on Chris'

shoulder.

"It's all right," he said. "She'll be all right--thanks to you.

Shock to the system, of course, but"--he gave an exclamation of concern as Chris swayed--"you'd better come downstairs and let me prescribe for you," he said bluntly. "No, you can't see your wife yet. That face of yours would only make her worse."

He would not allow Chris to see her that night

"She must be kept perfectly quiet. My dear chap, listen to reason,"

he urged, when Chris objected. "Do you want to kill her outright?

No? Very well, then, do as I say."

He hesitated, then asked: "Were you with her--in the car?"

"No"--Chris' voice shook--"my friend was with her," he added, turning his face away.

"I see. Terrible thing--terrible!"

Chris followed him to the door.