"Ah," said Wyndham, "it looks as if I had run some risk! After all, I don't know." He paused and resumed with emotion: "I admitted everything, but she trusts me yet; I think she would have trusted me had I put my confession off. It's strange, but I didn't know how staunch my wife is. We'll let this go. What did you do with Peters?" Marston laughed. "I came near to throwing him over the wall. Held him over the edge and wanted to let him drop; but the brute suggested that somebody would find him on the rocks. I saw the force of this, because the consequences would have been awkward now we have a big job on hand. It's plain that you will need me." "I do need you. It's lucky I have such a partner. I've got to make restitution and can't do so at my proper cost. Yet I've no claim; I cheated you, as I cheated my wife. I'm an unsuccessful rogue and didn't let my scruples bother me until I was found out." "That's sentimental extravagance," Marston said with some embarrassment. "Anyhow, I am your partner and your responsibilities are mine. I don't disown my debts." "The debts are heavy. I ran them up, without your knowing." "We can pay," said Marston, smiling. "It won't break us; I'm pretty rich and mean to see you out. You can count on my help and my money; in fact, on all I can give. Now that's done with. There's no more to be said." Wyndham gave him a quick, grateful glance. "Thanks! You're rash, but I must try not to disappoint you. Friendship like yours is rare." When Marston went off, he sat for a time, looking straight in front. He felt slack and strangely humbled, but was conscious of a new resolve. Although he had gone far down hill, it was, perhaps, not too late to stop. The climb back would be long and hard; he could never reach his wife's and his friend's level. All the same, he meant to front the ascent. They had borne much for him, he must, so far as he was able, try to repay them. CHAPTER VIII UP HILL The smoking-room of the Marine Hotel at Carmeltown was crowded with yachtsmen on the evening after the channel regatta. Marston and Wyndham occupied a small table, the former trying to read a newspaper while the latter looked about. The big room echoed with voices, a haze of tobacco smoke drifted round the pillars, and now and then a peal of laughter marked the end of an Irish yachtsman's tale. For all that, Wyndham's face was rather grim, and Marston, looking up by-and-by, thought he was brooding. "Hallo! Here's Elliot," he exclaimed. "S'pose he came across on the mailboat. I heard her whistle not long since. Thought he was going to stop and see if they could salve _Deva_. Anyhow, I'd like to hear about the collision and it looks as if he was making for us." "Yes," said Wyndham. "I imagine he wants to see me." Elliot crossed the floor, stopping now and then when somebody spoke to him, and after a time reached Marston's table, where he sat down.