After a time, he went back into the smoking room. Wyndham, wearing a heavy coat, lounged on a settee. He was very thin and his face was haggard, but this was not all. His mouth was distorted, for one side drooped, giving him a strange look of vacant amus.e.m.e.nt. The contrast between this and the melancholy in his eyes was rather horrible. Marston was getting used to the disfigurement, but he had seen that strangers were jarred. Besides, Wyndham would never again articulate clearly. His talk was slow and awkward, and the Kingston doctor doubted if he would altogether get back his strength.

"Ten minutes yet; I don't see the tug," said Marston. "Shall I help you out on deck when she comes?"

Wyndham smiled and answered with the deliberation he was forced to use: "There wouldn't be much use in that, Bob. I heard them fixing the big gangway lights."

Marston knew he was thinking about Flora and the shock she must get. It was going to be hard for Flora; in fact, it was hard for both.

"She knows," he said quietly. "I was frank with Mabel and told her all before the doctor would let you write."

"Thanks! Flora has pluck, but the pluck that hides a hurt does not cure it."

"It goes some way," said Marston. "When Flora sees you, I don't think she will see the scar."

Then one or two of the pa.s.sengers came in, and they waited until the engines stopped and they heard the tug's paddles. Wyndham got on his feet awkwardly and waved back Marston, who had meant to give him his arm. His face was very pinched, but his eyes were bright, and as they went out he forced a smile.

A big electric lamp hung from the spar-deck and threw down a searching light. The tug's gangway was run out and people began to come on board.

Marston saw Mabel and his heart beat with mixed emotions as he noted her black dress, for a cablegram had told him Mrs. Hilliard was dead. He was unselfishly sorry for Mabel, but she had met the last claim of duty and he had waited long.

Then Flora stepped down from the gangway and went straight across the deck to Wyndham, who stood under the lamp. The strong light touched their faces and Marston imagined the corners of Flora's mouth twitched.

This was all; her step was swift and eager and her eyes shone with tender welcome. She was very brave. Marston saw no pity in her look; there was nothing but gladness and love.

"My dear!" she cried, and Wyndham took her in his feeble arms.

A few moments afterwards Mabel gave Marston her hand and when he had gazed at her his glance rested on her black dress.

"I'm sorry. Very sorry; I think you understand!"

"I know, Bob," said Mabel. "You thought about me; you don't think much about yourself. But I must speak to Harry."

She left him and he was filled with tenderness and pride as he watched her greet Wyndham. Her smile was frank and her voice was sympathetic, but one got no hint of pity that might jar a sensitive nerve. Mabel struck the right note, and Marston knew it was not all good-breeding that guided her. He loved her for the human kindness she gave his comrade.

When they went down the gangway Wyndham was forced to lean on Marston's arm. A car was waiting at the floating bridge that led to the pier-head and Marston helped Wyndham in.

"I'll go to the office early and report to you in the evening," he said.

"You must take things easy and not bother at all."

Flora and Chisholm got in and when they drove off Marston took Mabel's hand.

"If you don't mind, we'll walk to the top. I want to look about and realize I'm at home. I feel like a boy who has just come back from his first term at school."

"Was it very hard, Bob?" Mabel asked, sympathetically.

Marston smiled. "It was foreign, if you understand, and that was worse.

Plots, gloom, sickness, and mystery that made you savage because you didn't know if you were being cleverly cheated or not. Sometimes I half believed the Bat was a magician. In fact, it was all from which a sober fellow revolts."

"Yet you were strong enough to carry out the job you hated. That is much, Bob."

Marston looked down the river. Long rows of lights p.r.i.c.ked out the dock walls that narrowed to a dark gap in the distance. Low constellations marked the ferry landing stages, and in the stream other lights, colored green and red, moved swiftly up and down. In the background were misty towers and spires. Whistles shrieked and one heard the splash of paddles and the throb of propellers, for the commerce of two cities floated up on the tide. Bob's imagination was sometimes dull, but the river noises moved him then. He got a hint of ordered effort and useful activity.

Sober men brought home the ships and controlled the trade that extended across the world. Perhaps, if one looked for it with understanding, there was a romance about this far-spread trade, but of one kind of romance Bob had had enough.

"We will go to the car," he said presently, with quiet happiness. "I've got back and you are with me. I have all I want. Coming up channel, my satisfaction was half spoiled; the trouble waiting Flora haunted me.

Then, to some extent, I felt I hadn't justified her trust. I'd promised to see Harry out, and I brought him home like that."

"If you had not been very staunch, he might not have come home at all.

But will he always be disfigured?"

"The mark of the bullet won't wear off and he will never talk easily.

For the rest, the Kingston doctor wasn't very encouraging. He said Harry had obviously borne a crushing strain for long, and now it had broken him, we mustn't look for a quick recovery. Still he was young and proper treatment in England would help. Well, his meeting Flora is over and I've got rid of a load."

"You ought not to have been afraid for Flora."

"I see this now; she was wonderful," Marston agreed. "Human nature's rather mixed and some is pretty base metal, but you feel that Flora's almost without alloy."

Mabel smiled. "I like you when you're romantic, Bob; but even then you're cautious."

"Oh, well," said Marston. "After all, I only know one girl who is pure gold."

"Now you're quite extravagant, but you're very nice indeed," Mabel replied, and their car rolled up.

Next evening Mabel went with Bob to Wyndham's small house. Wyndham, looking pale and jaded, occupied an easy chair by the fire and Mabel ordered him not to get up.

"I have been to the office and all is going well," Marston remarked.

"Next week you can come down for perhaps an hour a day. We won't need you longer and I mean to be firm. Nevis tells me he won't stay. I imagine he doesn't approve my methods, but I'd rather expected this and think I've got a better man."

"If you're satisfied----" said Wyndham, smiling. "Since Nevis began at the office, I suppose you feel he belongs to the old state of things."

Marston looked half embarra.s.sed, but nodded. "I did feel something like that. A new man is better when you make a fresh start on another line.

However, I'm not going to bother about business; I've told you enough to put your mind at rest. There's something much more important, Mabel has agreed to marry me next month."

Flora kissed Mabel and for a time they engaged in happy talk. Then Marston got up.

"We are going to the drawing-room. It's a long time since I heard good music and Mabel said she'd play."

"I didn't know you liked music much, Bob," Flora remarked.

"All the same, I do like it," Marston rejoined. "It's true I've been to concerts that bored me; but all music's charming when Mabel plays."

Flora let them go and then looked at Wyndham. "A wedding present's the next thing, Harry, and it will need some thought. What can we give them, who have given us so much?"

Wyndham smiled. "I imagine Bob would be content with our grat.i.tude, although he'd feel badly embarra.s.sed if you made it too plain." His smile, however vanished as he resumed: "Anyhow, I shall never wipe out my debt. There are not many like Bob."

He mused for a few moments and went on: "I remember his telling me Rupert was drowned. My face was bandaged; I couldn't speak and was too weak to move. Bob could only see my eyes, and as he watched them I knew what he thought. Because he had hated Rupert from the beginning, he was desperately anxious to persuade me he had done his best. The thing was, of course, ridiculous. Bob being the man he is, one could not doubt him.

It was unthinkable to imagine he had not used every effort, although the sea was rough and he risked a capsize. The boat was half swamped when he brought her back. Yet I imagine he was more disturbed than me."

"I think Bob did not see him fall overboard?"

"No," said Wyndham. "Rupert may have lost his balance, but I doubt. We were not far from Kingston and when we got there he must, so to speak, resume a white man's responsibilities and begin life again. He had lived like a savage, commanding fear and using power that few civilized rulers know; but all that had gone and he was proud."