He might have regained it, but at this supreme moment a distinct and unmistakeable push in the back from his companion completed his discomfiture.
He clutched wildly at the shrouds with one hand—the other still held the rope; but fruitlessly, and in an instant he fell down—far down into the vortex of the seething, swirling sea.
"Ah, traitress!" he cried, as he sank, fully conscious, as it seemed, of the foul part she had played.
Had she really wished to drown him? Her conduct after he had disappeared bore out this conclusion.
One hasty glance around satisfied her that McKay's fall had been unobserved. If she gave the alarm at once he might still be saved.
"Not yet!" she hissed between her teeth. "In five minutes it will be too late to help him. The waters have closed over him—let him go down, to the very bottom of the sea."
But she was wise in her fiendish wickedness, and knew that as they had been seen last together she must account for McKay's disappearance. At the end of an interval long enough to make rescue impossible she startled the whole yacht with her screams.
"Help! Help! Mr. McKay! He has fallen overboard!"
They came rushing aft to where she stood once more holding on to the top of the companion, and plied her with questions.
"There! there! make haste!" she cried—"for Heaven's sake make haste!"