Without a word to Bassett Mast raised his hat and turned away. He went up the steps of the verandah and into the club-house.
“I think,” said Hilda, “that his advice is good. It’s blowing hard now, and the Snowflake can’t lie where she is—with the reef on her lee.”
“Yes, my dear, we will go. But I must have a few words with Mr Bassett in private. Go on ahead of us a little.”
And now Bassett found his tongue. “You must not pay any attention to what Mast said, Mr Lechworthy. Mast is a good fellow, but he suffers from fits of morbid depression in which he believes himself to have done horrible things—the life here is very lonely, you know—no amusements of any kind—nobody to speak to.”
Lechworthy thought of the card-tables. “Bassett,” he said, “it’s not about Mast but about yourself that I wish to speak. Many have looked for you and have not found you. I have found you unwittingly—I think because I was sent to find you. You are a thief, Bassett. You are a murderer, for one of those poor women whose property you stole took her own life.”
“I am absolutely innocent, Mr Lechworthy. I have a complete explanation. You—should be careful, sir. I have seen men shot dead on this island for saying less than you have said to me.”
“Do not try to frighten me, Bassett. I am ready for death when God wills, and death will come no sooner than that. You are coming back home with me, Bassett. You’ve fled to the far corner of the earth, and it’s no use; your sin has found you out. You are coming back to take your trial, and, if need be, your punishment. Do that, and I will help you by all the means in my power. I will help you to make your peace with man and to something better—your peace with God. It’s the one way to happiness. You’ll find no way here. Turn back for nothing. Come now, this moment.”
Even as he spoke Bassett had made his plan. Hilda, a few yards in front of them, turned round. “Which way?” she called.
“The little track to the right, if you please,” called Bassett, “it’s the shortest.” Then he turned to Lechworthy. “I will come,” he said. “I put myself in your hands unreservedly.”
The little track to the right was very narrow and led through thick scrub, damp and odorous with the scent of the frangipani bushes. Hilda, well on ahead, fought her way through a tangle of lianas. Behind her came Lechworthy, crouching and going gingerly, serenely happy. Behind him at a little distance came Bassett, his hat under his arm, sweating profusely, the revolver which he had taken out from his pocket held clumsily in his shaking right hand.