"I shall hope for your better acquaintance, Mr. Palliser," he said.

Tony looked at him in wonder. "You realize what I have done, sir?"

Harding nodded gravely. "I have heard how you have tried to make it up,"

he said. "Well, I guess I've seen and handled a good many men, and there's more hope of those who trip up and get on their feet again than for quite a few of the others who have never fallen at all. Now, I'm glad you've told me, though, so far as my belief in Mr. Appleby goes, it was not by any means necessary."

Tony made a little movement with his head. "I've made over Dane Cop to you, Bernard," he said. "It is yours by right, and you can take it without feeling that you owe anything to me. G.o.dfrey Palliser meant it for you-until I deceived him."

Appleby said nothing, but his set face showed what he was bearing for his comrade, and Harding quietly touched his shoulder.

"It seems to me that Mr. Palliser is right," he said. "The land is yours, anyway, and you would only hurt him by not taking it."

Tony raised his head, and looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir," he said. "It would hurt me, Bernard."

Appleby smiled a little, though it apparently cost him an effort.

"Well," he said, "I'm not burdened with money yet, and I think you can afford it."

A light crept into Tony's eyes. "That is one thing accomplished. When will you come back?"

"I don't quite know. I may find an opportunity in a year or two."

"You must come now."

"I can't."

"You must," said Tony, almost hoa.r.s.ely. "Bernard, can't you see that to bring you over, and to prove that I have made amends is the last chance for me?"

"The last chance. You must be more explicit, Tony."

They were both apparently oblivious of the fact that Harding was watching them, and Tony's voice trembled a little with eagerness.

"It's the only way I can make my peace with Violet," he said. "Can't you understand what she is to me? She would promise nothing until I had made all straight with you-and I can't let her go."

Appleby's face was compa.s.sionate, but he shook his head. "It is out of the question, Tony. I can't-even for you," he said. "I have got to stay here, and see this trouble through."

"Mr. Appleby is right," said Harding. "He has work to do."

Tony seemed to groan, and sat still a pace. Then he looked up with a little flush in his face.

"Well," he said very quietly, "in that case I'll stay with you."

Appleby laughed. "The thing is palpably absurd. A Palliser of Northrop consorting with the Sin Verguenza!"

"Still," said Tony doggedly, "I'm not going back to leave you in peril here. I couldn't face Violet, and tell her that tale. Nor am I as sure as you seem to be that the thing is so absurd. It's only the moral courage that has been left out of me."

"Try to realize what it is you wish to do," said Appleby almost sternly.

Tony smiled curiously. "It is quite plain to me already. I'm going to stay here and see the affair through with you; then when the insurgents will let you go you'll come with me, if it's only for a week or two, and tell Violet that you have forgiven me. In the meanwhile Craythorne and my agent will take better care of Northrop than ever I could do. There is another point you don't seem to have remembered. I should almost certainly be made a prisoner by the Spaniards if you sent me away."

"There is a good deal of sense in that," said Harding.

Appleby sat silent for almost a minute, and then seeing that Tony was resolute made a little gesture of resignation.

"Well," he said slowly, "we will talk to Maccario. Mr. Harding, I may ask you for a month's leave when we have taken Santa Marta."

"You shall have it," said Harding quietly.

Just then, as it happened, Maccario strolled into the veranda, and Appleby, who stood up, laid his hand on Tony's shoulder.

"I have the honor of presenting you another comrade," he said.

XXIX - TONY PERSISTS

FOUR of the Sin Verguenza girt with bandoliers were waiting in the patio while Harding made hasty preparations for his journey when Appleby and Tony stood on the veranda. The night was a trifle clearer than any of them desired, though the half-moon had dipped behind the flat roof which was projected sharply against the luminescent blueness of the sky. A stream of light shone out from the open window of Harding's room, and Pancho's voice rose suggestively now and then as he watched him dressing. Harding, who had affairs of importance with the banker, was going into Santa Marta, and since it appeared more than likely that Morales knew he had arrived at San Cristoval, it was essential that, in order to avoid observation, he should be attired correctly in Cuban fashion.

Appleby, however, scarcely heard the major-domo, for he was making another attempt to induce Tony to leave with Harding, who purposed to head for the coast in the hope of finding a steamer there when he had made what arrangements he could respecting his Cuban possessions. Tony listened with a quiet smile, and then resolutely shook his head.

"We have been through it all before, and you are only wasting breath,"

he said. "I am going home with you when you have taken Santa Marta, but until then I stay here."

Appleby lost his patience. "It's a piece of purposeless folly. What have you to do with the fall of Santa Marta?"

"It is also my last chance," said Tony, with a curious little smile.

"You could understand that if you wished to."

"No," said Appleby doggedly. "I don't think I could. Nor do I believe you would convince any reasonable man."

Tony smiled curiously. "One has objections to stripping himself, so to speak, before even a friend's eyes. It really isn't decent, but-since you are persistent-what I went through at Northrop was getting insupportable. The anxiety was crushing the life out of me, and it's out of the question that I should go back there while you are carrying the load that should have been upon my shoulders here. I'm not claiming any virtue I don't possess. Indeed, it's selfishness and what is most likely superst.i.tious cowardice that decides me to stay, but I feel that until I have made all right with you there can be no peace for me."

"I do not want to live in England, and you are taking too personal a view of the thing. Since there is Violet to consider your life is not your own to throw away, and I am not sure you know how much she would forgive you."

Tony's face grew a trifle grim, and the light that streamed from the window showed the weariness in it.

"The trouble is that Violet was never in love with-me," he said very slowly. "I have a gift for deceiving people, even when I don't mean to, and it was not until the truth came out she saw me as I am. It is difficult to admit it, but there the fact is. She gave her heart to the man she supposed me to be, but I loved her for herself, and because I know she is the one woman who could make an honorable man of me. I lose my last hope if I let her go."

He stopped a moment with a little groan, while Appleby regarded him compa.s.sionately, and then continued in a low strained voice.

"Now you see the selfishness of it, and why I mean to stay. I must prove I'm not wholly worthless by making amends to you."

Appleby stood silent a moment. He knew Tony's unstable nature well, and that his pa.s.sion for Violet Wayne, which was almost reverential, might yet lift him to a higher level. It was also evident that in desiring to make amends Tony was wise, and Appleby felt a curious sympathy for the man who clung so desperately to his last hope of vindicating himself in her eyes. That Tony's motive was, as he had admitted, largely selfish, and his contrition by no means of the highest order, did not trouble him. It was his part to help and not censure him, and with a little swift movement he laid his hand upon his shoulder.

"Well," he said quietly, "you may be right, and since nothing else will content you, you must stay."

Just then Harding, attired in white duck and a big Panama hat, came out into the veranda, and glanced at them.