Part 20 (1/2)

”I do,” he said, regarding her with gravely pitiful eyes. ”Still, you rather forced it out of me. Perhaps this is a weak excuse, because I had meant to forget the matter.”

”But didn't you want to clear yourself and get taken back?”

”No; I knew it was too late. I'd shown I couldn't be trusted with an important job; and I'd made a fresh start here.”

His answer touched the girl, and after a quick half-ashamed glance, she thought she had misjudged him. It was not her physical charm that had made him willing to condone her offense, for he showed none of the bold admiration she had shrunk from in other men. Instead, he was compa.s.sionate and, she imagined, anxious to save her pain.

She did not answer and turning her head, vacantly watched the sh.o.r.e slide past. The mountains were growing blacker, trails of mist that looked like gauze gathered in the ravines, and specks of light began to pierce the gloom ahead. They marked Santa Brigida, and something must still be said before the launch reached port. It was painful that Brandon should take her guilt for granted, but she feared to declare her innocence.

”You were hurt when I pa.s.sed you at Adexe,” she remarked, without looking at him. ”You must, however, see that friends.h.i.+p between us is impossible while you think me a thief.”

”I must try to explain,” d.i.c.k said slowly. ”When I recovered my senses at your house after being ill, I felt I must get away as soon as possible, though I ought to have remembered only that you had taken care of me.

Still, you see, my mind was weak just then. Afterwards I realized how ungratefully I had behaved. The plans didn't matter; they weren't really of much importance, and I knew if you had taken them, it was because you were forced. That made all the difference; in a way, you were not to blame. I'm afraid,” he concluded lamely, ”I haven't made it very clear.”

Clare was moved by his nave honesty, which seemed to be guarded by something finer than common sense. After all, he had made things clear.

He owned that he believed she had taken the plans, and yet he did not think her a thief. On the surface, this was rather involved, but she saw what he meant. Still, it did not carry them very far.

”It is not long since you warned Mr. Fuller against us,” she resumed.

”Not against you; that would have been absurd. However, Jake's something of a gambler and your father's friends play for high stakes. The lad was put in my hands by people who trusted me to look after him. I had to justify their confidence.”

”Of course. But you must understand that my father and I stand together.

What touches him, touches me.”

d.i.c.k glanced ahead. The lights of Santa Brigida had drawn out in a broken line, and those near the beach were large and bright. A hundred yards away, two twinkling, yellow tracks stretched across the water from the shadowy bulk of a big cargo boat. Farther on, he could see the black end of the mole washed by frothy surf. There was little time for further talk and no excuse for stopping the launch.

”That's true in a sense,” he agreed with forced quietness. ”I've done you an injustice, Miss Kenwardine; so much is obvious, but I can't understand the rest just yet. I suppose I mustn't ask you to forget the line I took?”

”We can't be friends as if nothing had happened.”

d.i.c.k made a gesture of moody acquiescence. ”Well, perhaps something will clear up the matter by and by. I must wait, because while it's difficult now, I feel it will come right.”

A minute or two later he ran the launch alongside a flight of steps on the mole, and helping Clare to land went with her to her house. They said nothing on the way, but she gave him her hand when he left her at the door.

CHAPTER XIV

COMPLICATIONS

It was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when d.i.c.k sat on his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. He felt slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. There was now no touch of coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. It rose and fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon d.i.c.k's nerves as he forced himself to think.

He was in danger of falling in love with Clare Kenwardine; indeed, he suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had already done so. The prudent course would be to fight against and overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he feared? It seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all he did not hold her accountable. Some day he would learn more about the matter and find that she was blameless. He had been a fool to think harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. Clare, who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good for him. This, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry Clare, there were serious obstacles in his way.

To begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides which, Kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and his opposition would be troublesome. Then it was plainly desirable that she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous man. In the next place, d.i.c.k was far from being able to support a wife accustomed to the extravagance that Kenwardine practised. It might be long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary for an Englishwoman in a hot, foreign country.

He felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the matter Bethune came in. On the whole, d.i.c.k found his visit a relief.

”I expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running,”