The face of the one man that he loved. The face of the only human creature whom he had thought on as a friend. The face of Eustace Marchmont! And he--Saul Tresithny--had lured his only friend, and the one being he loved and trusted--to a terrible and hideous death. It was as he realised this that the awful cry broke from him, and after that the five seconds of paralysed waiting and watching that seemed like an eternity to him. Then in the midst of that unspeakable agony there came one whisper as of hope--the voice of an angel--penetrating the terrible despairing anguish of his soul. “Perhaps he is not yet dead. Perchance it may be given you to save him yet. But lose not a moment, else your chance may come too late.” When Saul heard that voice, he hesitated not one second. Flinging off his heavy pilot-coat, and casting a rope round him, which he fastened to a broken mast, he plunged without a moment’s hesitation into the sea, striking out for the floating object now just being carried beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. Saul had always been a strong and bold swimmer, but since he became maimed and lame and enfeebled, he had seldom been in the water save for the purpose of launching his boat or getting it in, and he had done no swimming for many months. Still there was no difficulty in reaching Eustace and getting a firm grip round his neck. The life-buoy supported the double weight well; but when Saul strove to strike out in the direction of the ship, he found that the ebb of the tide was carrying them both farther and farther away. Struggle as he would, he could get no nearer, but saw the light as it were receding from him, and knew that the ebb was sucking them little by little towards those terrible quicksands close at hand, which if they touched, their doom was sealed. When would the rope be payed out and stop them? He had not guessed how long it was when he had tied one end about his waist and fastened the other about the broken mast. Would it never become taut, that he could try hauling himself and his comrade in? And even where they now were they might touch the sand any moment with the fall of the tide. It was constantly changing and shifting. No one knew exactly where it would lie from day to day and week to week. A sense of cold numb horror fell upon Saul. He was growing faint and giddy. A whisper in another voice now assailed his ears. “Save yourself at least--and leave him to perish. Likely enough he is dead already; why risk your life for a corpse? Without his weight you could easily make the ship. Save yourself, and leave him to his fate. What is he to you?” Saul’s senses were leaving him fast, ebbing away in a deadly faintness that made even the terror of his position more like a dream than a reality. But even so the words of the tempter fell powerless upon his ears. His answer was to set his teeth and close his embrace more fast around his friend.