"I had fever, you know, but the thing was remarkably real. It was like lantern pictures melting on the screen. Background and figures were accurate and lifelike. In the last scene, I knew I was in _Columbine_'s cabin and can hardly persuade myself I was quite asleep. The tide splashed about the boat; I could smell the mud." "Yet you saw Wyndham's uncle change into the horrible old mulatto." Marston nodded. "He faded and got distinct again, different, but not different altogether. This was the puzzling thing. However, the story the agent told us about the Leopards had haunted me and I'd often thought about Rupert Wyndham. Perhaps it was because I saw his portrait and he was like my partner." "You mean he was like him physically?" "That's not all. Of course a portrait doesn't tell one very much, but I thought Harry had Rupert's temperament." "I see," said Mabel, knitting her straight brows. "To begin with, do you know Rupert Wyndham's temperament?" "In a way; Harry and Ellams, the agent, talked about him much. He was a daring man; I think reckless is the proper word. We sober folks have our code, we must do this and not the other; men like Rupert Wyndham have none. If a thing looked worth getting, he'd venture much and break rules for it. Harry, you know, is like that; I mean he'd venture much. Well, I think Rupert made some rash experiments in Africa. He studied the negroes' habits and tried to get their point of view." "With an object, you suggest? What did he want?" "Harry imagined it was power." "Ah," said Mabel. "Harry wants Flora. And he has Rupert's recklessness!" Marston made a sign of disagreement. "There's a difference. A man might do much for power; but for a girl like Flora he must be fastidious. It wouldn't help if he got money and lost her respect. Harry knows this. He's not a fool." "But suppose Flora didn't know how he got his money?" "Harry doesn't cheat. He wouldn't use means she disapproved and then claim his reward." "Oh, well," said Mabel, "I think we'll let it go. I like you to trust your friends." Soon afterwards a car came to the steps and Mabel saw that Marston put on a warm scarf and fastened his collar before he drove off. Then she went back to the fire and pondered his story and subsequent remarks. The story was strange, but she thought she saw a light where all was dark to Bob. She had long suspected that Wyndham was reckless and would not be bound by rules if the prize he sought made his breaking them worth while. Moreover, she had got books about West Africa and the Caribbean that touched on Fetish and Voodoo superstitions. Perhaps she was romantic, but it was possible Wyndham, led by strong temptation, had ventured where a white man ought not to go. With an effort, Mabel banished her doubts. After all, the thing was unthinkable. Bob had not been cheated; he knew Harry.