Flora smiled. "Harry is bruised, but not broken. Then, you see, I made
his temptation stronger. When I ought to have held him back I
half-consciously urged him on. It was for my sake he broke rules we try
to keep, and I mustn't grumble if some of his punishment falls on me."
"After all, you did not know what you did."
"I ought to have known; I am his wife. But I think you understand, and
there's no more to be said."
Chisholm got up. "A nasty knock, but we can bear it. You have pluck and
one can't be beaten when one is not afraid."
They went back silently and near the end of the wall met Wyndham going
to the landing steps. Chisholm stopped and gave him his hand.
"Flora has told me all," he said. "Your friends will stand by you."
PART III
REPARATION
CHAPTER I
WYNDHAM PAYS DUTY
Red reflections trembled on the sea, a fringe of languid surf broke
along the beach, and as the liner turned a point, a white town that rose
in terraces, glimmered like a pearl. A yellow flag ran up to the
masthead, the throb of engines slowed, and a noisy launch steamed out
from behind the mole. Marston, leaning on the rail, watched her
approach, and his look was thoughtful when he turned to Wyndham.
"If Don Ramon got our telegram, he's probably on board," he said. "I
hope he is, because if he doesn't come it might imply he means to make
things difficult for us. He could if he liked."
"Larrinaga will come," Wyndham replied. "From all accounts, he's a
pretty good officer, but I don't expect he neglects his interests while
he looks after the State's. I'm counting on this."
"I s'pose one mustn't be fastidious, but I don't want to get involved in
fresh intrigue. The job we've undertaken is awkward enough."
"Very awkward," Wyndham agreed, with some dryness. "In a way, it looks
too big for us. To begin with, we have got to pay duties we dodged, and
satisfy the Government we cheated. Then, without exciting the latter's
curiosity, we're going to stop a rebellion and carry off its leader.
There's the worst puzzle. The fellow's cunning and powerful. Moreover,
he's my uncle."
He stopped, for the engines clanked noisily as the screw turned astern;
then the anchor splashed and the launch swung in to the gangway. The
port doctor came on board and after him a man in tight-fitting American
clothes. His wide black belt was spun from the finest silk and Marston
noted his hat. Indians had woven the delicate material under running
water; presidents and dictators wore hats like that, and none of the few
produced were sent to Europe. It was obvious that Señor Larrinaga was
now a man of importance.
"You sent for me," he said, with a bow.
"The steamer goes on in the morning," Wyndham replied. "We hesitated
about landing and calling, for fear we might trespass on your time. By
sending a telegram we left you free to refuse. If you are not much
occupied, I hope you'll dine on board."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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