CHRIS LAWLESS came back into the hotel lounge almost as soon as hiswife and young Atkins had left it. He looked quickly round forMarie.
His conscience had begun to prick him a little. He had noticed thepallor of Marie's face at breakfast time, and the somethingstrained in her determined cheeriness, and, good fellow as hereally was at heart, he felt unhappy.
He had meant to do the right thing by her when he married her. Hehad always prided himself upon being a sportsman. He had nointention of allowing people to say that he neglected his wife, orthat his marriage had turned out a failure. He liked everything heundertook to be a success.
And he was fond of Marie! He had always been fond of her in his ownway. There was no earthly reason that he could see why they shouldnot get on ideally well together.
But Marie was not in the lounge. He looked round with a slightfrown, and his gaze fell upon Feathers, yawning behind his paper.
Chris went up to him.
"Where's Marie?"
"She went out just now with Atkins. I heard them say somethingabout a swim."
Chris looked annoyed.
"She ought to have waited for me," he said shortly. "Atkins takestoo much upon himself."
Feathers rose and threw down his paper.
"They've only just gone," he said. "We can catch them up if youcome now."
But Chris was thoroughly out of temper. He had letters to write, hesaid, and no doubt Marie would be back before long. He turned awayand Feathers strolled out into the sunshine alone.
He knew to which beach Marie and Atkins had gone, and he saunteredslowly along in that direction.
It was a glorious morning, and the sea front was crowded. The hotsun beat down on his uncovered head and dark face, and one or twowomen looked after him interestedly.
Feathers was not just merely ugly to all women. Some of themrealized the strength and character in his face, and with truefemininity wondered what his wife was like!
But Feathers was unmarried, and fully intended to remain so. He hadspent a roving life, and always declared that he was not going toput on a clean collar or wash his hands unless he felt inclined tofor any woman's sake.
"Not that any woman is ever likely to interest herself either in myhands or collars," he added ruefully.
Chris had sworn eternal bachelorhood also, which partly accountedfor Feathers' disgust when he wrote to him of his intendedmarriage.
He had written back a sarcastic letter which Chris had carefullydestroyed without showing it to Marie.
"I never thought you were a petticoat follower . . . What in thename of all that's holy has made you change your mind? Is it money,brains, or merely a pretty face? No, I will not be your best man--Iwon't even come to your beastly wedding. If you choose to get intoa tangle like this you can do so without my assistance, and lateron, if you want to get out of it, don't come crying to me for helpeither. I wash my hands of you!"
He had been quite prepared to dislike Marie, and was surprisedbecause he did not; but then--so he argued to himself--how couldanybody dislike such a child? And his sentiments veered right roundthe other way, until he decided that in all probability she wouldneed protecting from Chris, though why, or in what way, he had notthe smallest idea.
But he had offered her his friendship in all good faith, and wasfeeling a little sore at the manner of her refusal as he strolledalong now in the sunshine through the crowds of holiday-makers,keeping a careless look-out for young Atkins.
There were a great many people bathing, and he stopped for amoment, one foot on the low railing that divided the promenade fromthe beach, scanning the water.
There was a good deal of laughter and chattering and screaminggoing on amongst the girls and women in the water, and he watchedthem with a sort of amused contempt. Why did they bathe if theyfound it so cold, and what fun could there be in standing in a fewinches of water shivering and screaming?
And then all at once a change came over the whole scene. Fromlight-hearted frivolity it seemed to turn to panic and fear. Peopleleft their seats on the parade and crowded down to the sands. Aman's voice, frantic and agonized, raised itself above all thechatter and noise.
Feathers knew instinctively what had happened. He vaulted the lowrailing and ran across the sands, tearing off his coat as he went.
He kicked off his shoes at the water's edge and dashed into thesea, wading until the depths took him off his feet, and thenswimming strongly.
A boat was circling round and round helplessly some way beyond thediving board. A youth in a wet bathing suit, white as a ghost andshivering with fright, was bending low over its bow, searching thesmooth water with terrified eyes; when he caught sight of Feathershe broke into agonized words:
"Feathers! For God's sake! She's gone! Mrs. Lawless! She screamedand I tried to get to her . . . I was too late, and she went down . . .It must have been cramp--she was all right a moment before. . . Oh,for God's sake!"
He dived from the boat to his friend's side but Feathers shook himoff.
"Get away . . . you fool! Can't you see you're hampering me?"
He dived again and again, desperately swimming under water in avain search for the drowning girl.
Young Atkins had clambered back to the boat. He sat there in thehot sunshine, his face in his hands, sobbing like a woman.
He felt that it was all his fault He knew he could never be able toface Chris again. Over and over in his mind rang the tragic words:"And she was only married yesterday! Only married yesterday!"
At that moment he would gladly have given his life for hers. Hefelt that he would not go on living if she had gone.
And then a sudden wild shout went up from the crowds on the beach.Young Atkins looked up, not daring to hope, and there in the sea,only a few yards from the boat, the rough dark head of Feathersappeared above the smooth water, swimming strongly with one arm andsupporting a small, helpless object with the other.
He seemed to have forgotten the boat, for he made straight for theshore, and though eager men waded out to his help, and a dozenpairs of arms were stretched out to take his burden from him, heshook his head and held her jealously.
"Beauty and the beast!" someone whispered as the tall, ugly manwaded ashore with the girl's limp body in his arms.
Perhaps he heard, for at any rate a faint, grim smile crossed hisdark face as he laid her down on the warm sands.
There was a doctor amongst the crowd, and a little group closedabout her, chafing her limbs, working her arms up and down,frantically trying to beat life back into the inert little body.
Feathers stood by breathing hard, the water dripping from him.
He kept his eyes fixed on Marie's deathly face.
A woman in the crowd began to cry, "Poor child! Poor child!" ForMarie Celeste looked only a child as she lay there, her wet hairtumbled all around her.
"It's too late, she's gone!" someone else said, hopelessly, andFeathers turned like a lion.
"It's not too late," he thundered. He went down on his knees besideher, exhausted as he was, and worked like a giant to save her, andall the time he was wondering what Chris would do, what Chris wouldsay, and if he would be expected to break the news to him.
And then, after a long time, a little shell-like tinge of colorcrept back to the marble whiteness of Marie's face--the doctor gavea little exclamation, and went on with his work harder than before.
Feathers asked him a harsh question:
"Can we save her?"
"I think so--yes! . . ."
Each moment seemed an eternity, until, with labored, chokingbreaths and little gasping cries, Marie struggled back to life andthe golden summer morning.
Feathers rose to his feet. "I'll go on and tell her husband. You'resure she's out of danger?"
The doctor smiled, well pleased.
"Oh, she's all right now." He turned to the stretcher upon whichthey had laid the girl, and Feathers started to walk away, but thecrowd would not have this. They surged round him, slapping him onth
e back and cheering him to the echo. They were only too eager andwilling to give praise where it was due, and at last, indesperation, Feathers broke into a run and eluded them.
He went into the hotel across the garden, and through a side door,his dripping clothes leaving little wet marks all the way. He metone of the porters in the passage. The man stopped with a gasp ofdismay.
"Good heavens, sir! Has there been an accident?"
"Yes, one of the ladies here, a Mrs. Lawless, but she's allright now. Can you find her husband for me? He's probably inthe writing-room. Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes, sir, but . . ."
"Well, clear off and fetch him, then! I'm all right--don't make afuss. They're bringing her here. Hurry, man, hurry!"
He was back in a moment with Chris, looking greatly mystified andnot at all upset, for the porter had been afraid to tell him thetruth of what had happened, and had merely said he was wanted.
Feathers explained in a few words.
"Mrs. Lawless got out of her depths or got cramp or something, butshe's all right. She had a nasty scare, though. It's all right;they're bringing her along."
Chris went dreadfully white. He clutched his friend's arm. "You'renot lying to me!" he said, hoarsely. "She's not--dead!"
Feathers laughed. "Good lord, man, no! I tell you it's all right.She got a bit of a ducking. She's probably back in the hotel bythis time; you'd better go and see for yourself."
But Chris had gone before he had finished speaking, and Featherscrept away up to his room and peeled off his sodden clothes.
He felt very exhausted now it was all over. It had been a ghastlyfive minutes when he dived again and again into that still greenwater. He felt that he would never care for the sea in the same wayany more.
Supposing she had been drowned! Although he knew that she was safeand well, and to-morrow would probably be none the worse for heraccident. Feathers involuntarily echoed the words of the woman inthe crowd who had wept.
"Poor child! poor child!"
He laughed at himself directly afterwards, as he got into a drysuit, tried to reduce some sort of order to his unruly hair, andwent downstairs.
He was a simple sort of fellow, and thought so little of his ownaction that it gave him a positive shock when the visitors in thelounge insisted on giving him a cheer as he went through. The newsof what had occurred had spread like wildfire and, red faced andfrowning angrily. Feathers had to submit to being made a hero.
Mrs. Heriot, who had hitherto deliberately avoided him, insisted onshaking hands, and gushed that she was 80 proud of him, sodelighted to know such a brave man.
Feathers turned on her almost fiercely.
"It's all rubbish," he declared. "I happened to be the nearest,that was all! For heaven's sake, Mrs. Heriot, say no more!"
He went without his lunch because he could not bear the battery ofeyes which he knew would be upon him all the time. He sat up in hisown room reading until Atkins, still pale and shaken, came knockingat the door.
Feathers said, "Come in," not very pleasantly, and the boy wentacross to him and held out an unsteady hand.
"I say, you're a ripping sport!" he said in heartfelt tones. "Ifshe'd gone I should have jumped in and drowned myself; I swear Ishould."
"And a lot of good that would have done," Feathers said dryly. "Forheaven's sake, it, young 'un, and talk about something we canall enjoy."
But Atkins apparently could talk of nothing else, and he keptharping on the same subject until in desperation Feathers took himby the shoulders and put him outside.
Even then there was no peace, for almost directly Chris himselfarrived.
"They tell me you saved her life," he said agitatedly. "I ought tohave guessed! It's the kind of thing you would do. I can't--can'ttell you how grateful I am. If anything had happened to her . . ."
Feathers chucked the book he was reading across the room withviolence.
"Well, nothing has happened to her," he said crossly. "So, for thelove of Mike, shut up!" He walked over to the window. "I supposeshe is all right?" he asked casually.
"She's weak, of course, but the doctor says she'll be quite herselfin a day or two." Chris hesitated. "She'd like to see you,Feathers."
Feathers ran a distracted hand across his hair.
"More heroics!" he said savagely. "Well, I refuse! I absolutelyrefuse! I hate this tommyrot, I tell you!"
Chris looked offended. "I think she'll be hurt if you don't go." hesaid diffidently.
There was a little silence.
"Oh, all right!" Feathers turned resignedly to the door. "Do I gonow, and do you come with me?"
"Yes."
They went out of the room together and along the corridor.
Marie was lying on a sofa by the window, wrapped in a blue woollygown. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow behind her, and shelooked very frail and wan.
She held out her hand to Feathers, smiling faintly.
"I know you'll hate it," she said weakly, "but--I want to thankyou. They tell me "--her brown eyes went past him to where herhusband stood--"Chris tells me that you saved my life."
Feathers managed a laugh.
"Chris exaggerates," he said uncomfortably. "I happened to be luckyenough to pull you out--that was all. I hope you'll soon feelyourself again."
"Thank you, yes." He was still holding her hand, and, suddenlyrealizing it, he let it go abruptly.
Chris had gone to the door with the doctor, and for a moment Marieand Feathers were alone.
"Mr. Dakers," she said hesitatingly.
"Yes."
Her brown eyes were raised to his ugly face appealingly.
"I was horrid to you this morning, I know! It was--hateful of me!But there was a reason . . . some day I'll tell you."
He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lawless; it's allright."
"Yes, but it isn't," she insisted weakly. "And I want to say that--that if you would still like me to look upon you as--as a sort ofbig brother" . . . she smiled tremulously.
Feathers frowned so heavily that his eyes almost vanished beneaththeir shaggy brows.
"All this because I pulled you out of two feet of water?" hegrowled.
Tears swam into her eyes.
"It was a good deal more than two feet of water, and you know itwas! And--and--it isn't anything to do with that at all! It's justyou--you yourself! I should like to have you for a friend."
There was a little silence, then Feathers held out his hand.