e officers acted in pure good nature.
They were assisting a man apparently down in his luck, who would soon
be called on to face other difficulties by reason of his engagement to
a girl apparently so far removed from him in station. And the last
thing they dreamed of was that their kindly loan was destined to yield
them a better return than all the years of their naval service, for
their fifty pounds had gone into the pocket of a potential millionaire,
who was endowed with the faculty, rare in millionaires, of not
forgetting the friends of his poverty-stricken days.

CHAPTER XVII

RAINBOW ISLAND AGAIN--AND AFTERWARD

Sir Arthur Deane was sitting alone in his cabin in a state of deep
dejection, when he was aroused by a knock, and Robert entered.

"Can you give me half an hour?" he asked. "I have something to say to
you before we land."

The shipowner silently motioned him to a seat.

"It concerns Iris and myself," continued Anstruther. "I gathered from
your words when we met on the island that both you and Lord Ventnor
regarded Iris as his lordship's promised bride. From your point of view
the arrangement was perhaps natural and equitable, but since your
daughter left Hong Kong it happens that she and I have fallen in love
with each other. No; please listen to me. I am not here to urge my
claims on you. I won her fairly and intend to keep her, were the whole
House of Peers opposed to me. At this moment I want to tell you, her
father, why she could never, even under other circumstances, marry Lord
Ventnor."

Then he proceeded to place before the astounded baronet a detailed
history of his recent career. It was a sordid story of woman's perfidy,
twice told. It carried conviction in every sentence. It was possible,
of course, to explain matters more fully to the baronet than to Iris,
and Anstruther's fierce resentment of the cruel wrong inflicted upon
him blazed forth with overwhelming force. The intensity of his wrath in
no way impaired the cogency of his arguments. Rather did it lend point
and logical brevity. Each word burned itself into his hearer's
consciousness, for Robert did not know that the unfortunate father was
being coerced to a distasteful compact by the scoundrel who figured in
the narrative as his evil genius.

At the conclusion Sir Arthur bowed his head between his hands.

"I cannot choose but believe you," he admitted huskily. "Yet how came
you to be so unjustly convicted by a tribunal c