a tight place."

"Oh! That the man?" The other, who was a portly civilian, looked at the
unconscious Anstice with open interest. "Shocking affair, what? If he'd
held his hand five minutes they would both have been rescued. Wasn't
that it?"

"Yes. Looks a bit sick about it, doesn't he?"

"Um ... yes. Good-looking fellow, in a hard-bitten sort of way." The
civilian looked Anstice over, approving the thin, well-cut face, the
tall, loosely-built figure, the long hands lying idly on the arms of his
chair. "Rather foreign-looking, with that black hair and those dark
eyes, isn't he?"

"Yes. Looks years older than he did before it happened," said Trent,
speaking the truth. "I expect, though, it _is_ the sort of thing to age
one."

"Yes. What's he doing here? Going home?"

"Yes, but I fancy he's got an appointment with Cheniston first,"
explained the younger man importantly. "Boat got in this afternoon, and
I expect Cheniston wants to hear the affair at first-hand."

"Daresay. Rather rough on the poor devil." The civilian, beneath his
pompous exterior, had a kind heart. "Bad enough to have to shoot the
girl first, without explaining it all afterwards. Hope to goodness the
other chap lets him down lightly."

"Oh, well, he can't say much." Trent broke off abruptly. "Here is
Cheniston ... by Jove, I wouldn't like to be Anstice at this moment."

Unconscious of the interest he was arousing, a young man had just
entered the room. He was of medium height, broad-shouldered and bronzed,
with a good-looking, square face and a resolute chin. Just now he was
pale beneath his tan, and his eyes, which were narrow in shape and of a
rather hard blue, were strained and anxious.

Inside the room, he looked uncertainly round; and the next moment
Anstice rose slowly to his feet.

"You are Mr. Cheniston?" They might have been alone in a desert for all
the notice he took of any onlookers. "I think you are looking for me. My
name is Anstice."

Bruce Cheniston nodded abruptly.

"Yes. I'm Cheniston. We can't talk here. Will you come up to my room?"

"Thanks." He moved forward, and Cheniston turned to the door.

"This way. I'm some floors up--we'll take the lift."

In silence they made the ascent; and now to his own unwelcome surprise
Anstice felt himself awaking from the merciful stupor in which he had
been sunk for so many unnoticed days.

Suddenly he began to realize what this interview must mean to Cheniston;
and the knowledge t