She turned from him silently and in turning made a little stagger. Miller's hand slipped under her elbow; for an instant she found that he was supporting her. She stirred away from him in uncontrollable disgust.
A moment later she had pulled herself together; she murmured a disjointed sentence of thanks, and moved away towards the scuppers where Aylmer still lay motionless, realizing, as she reached it, that the gray man was still at her side. He was looking at her keenly, but with an impassive gaze which told her nothing.
She bent her face to the white lips. Faintly, but still distinct, she felt the breath pass from them. She rose with a little gesture of appeal.
"You must help me," she said. "We must get him below."
For a moment he hesitated. Then he passed his arms behind the other's shoulders and lifted him. She bent and took his knees. Staggering again at first, but with growing steadiness, she helped to half carry, half drag him to the companion, into the cabin, to lay him, at last, on the floor of the lazaret.
She drew off her jacket and arranged it under his head.
She rose and looked at Miller.
"Now, if they will give me food and water, I will do what I can," she said simply. "Quiet is his best chance, absolute quiet."
He gave a little bow of assent.
"We must hope for the best," he answered. "You must rely on me all you can; come into Landon's notice as little as possible. I will use my influences, such as they are, for the best."