"All right," Geoffrey said cheerfully. "Now I'll be off."
He made his way down the cliffs unseen. There were lanterns flitting about the shore; he could see the flash of Marion's white dress and Vera by her side. He came gently alongside them.
"Vera," he said. "What is all this about?"
Vera turned and gave a cry. She was acting her part as well as possible, and the cry seemed genuine. But the tears in her eyes were tears of thankfulness that the sufferings of those dear to her were ended. She clung to her lover; her lips pressed his.
Marion stood there white and still as a statue. The girl seemed to be frozen. Geoffrey's touch thawed her into life again.
"Geoffrey!" she screamed, "Geoffrey! Thank God, thank God! Never again will I——"
With another scream that rang high and clear, the girl fell unconscious at his feet. He raised her up tenderly as the others came rushing forward. There was a babel of confused cries, hoarse cheers, and yells of delight. The villagers were running wild along the sands. Scores of men pressed eagerly round to shake Geoffrey's hand.
"I was picked up by a yacht," he said. "Of course I know there was foul play. I know all about the broken mast and the sawn oars. You may rest assured I will take more care another time. And I was——"
Geoffrey was going to say that he had been warned, but he checked himself in time. His progress toward home was more or less a royal one. It touched him to see how glad people were. He had not imagined a popularity like this.
Vera clung fondly to his arm; Rupert Ravenspur walked proudly on the other side. Not once had the old man showed the slightest sign of breaking down, but he came perilously near to it at the present time. Marion held to him trembling. She felt it almost impossible to drag herself along.