I sprang up and dashed over to the pair who stood looking gloomily out to sea. They turned in surprise and stared down, the two big men, into my flushed up-tilted face.
"Mr. Shaw," I whispered quickly, "you must do as Miss Browne wishes." In my earnestness I laid a hand upon his arm. He regarded me bewilderedly.
"You must—you must!" I urged. "You'll spoil everything if you refuse!"
The surprise in his face yielded to a look composed of many elements, but which was mainly hard and bitter.
"And still I shall refuse," he said sardonically.
"Oh, no, no," I implored, "you don't understand! I—oh, if you would only believe that I am your friend!"
His face changed subtly. It was still questioning and guarded, but with a softening in it, too.
"Why don't you believe it?" I whispered unsteadily. "Do you forget that I owe you my life?"
And at the recollection of that day in the sea-cave the scarlet burned in my cheeks and my head drooped. But I saw how the lines about his mouth relaxed. "Surely you must know that I would repay you if I could!" I hurried on. "And not by—treachery."
He laughed suddenly. "Treachery? No! I think you would always be an open foe."