"Very good; then let us prepare for the swim. It will be a long one, and I am not in very great trim just now. I have also heard that sharks are numerous. I pity the shark that gets my legs; my upper half would not be so bad, but my lower would be calculated to give even a mummy dyspepsia."
While speaking, he had rolled his trousers up to his knees. Then, having discarded his jacket, he announced himself ready for the swim. All the time he had been making his preparations Ellison had been standing with his back to him, looking across the strait. He was still brooding on the accusation his companion had a moment before given utterance to. He was aware that he had told a lie on the previous night—wilfully and deliberately lied, without hope of gain to himself, or even without any desire of helping himself. He had represented himself to be something he was not, for no earthly reason that he could account for save a craving for exciting interest and sympathy. It was his one sin, his one blemish, this fatal trick of lying, and he could not break himself of it, try how he would. And yet, as I have already insisted, weak as he was in this, in all other matters he was the very soul of honour. It rankled in his mind, as the after-knowledge always did, to think that this man, whom he had learned to fear as well as to despise, should have found him out. He nodded to show that he was ready, and together they set out for the beach. On the way, Murkard placed his hand upon Ellison's arm, and looked into his face with a queer expression that was almost one of pity.
"Ellison," he said, "you are thinking over what I said just now. I'm sorry I let it slip. But, believe me, I meant no harm by it. I suppose every man has his one little failing—God knows, I'm conscious enough of mine. Don't think any the worse of me for having been so candid, will you?"
"The subject is distasteful to me; let's drop it."
"By all means. Now we've got our swim before us. Talk of Hero and Leander! I don't suppose there can be much doubt as to which of us is destined to be Leander."
Side by side they waded out till the water reached their shoulders; then they began their swim. Both were past masters in the art; but it was a long struggle, and they soon discovered that there was a stiff current setting against them. It began to look as if they would be washed past their goal before they could reach it.
When they were three parts of the way across, Ellison was ahead, Murkard some half dozen yards behind him. Suddenly the former heard a cry; he turned his head in time to see Murkard throw up his arms and disappear. Without a moment's hesitation he swam back to the spot, reaching it just as the other was disappearing for the third and last time. With a strength born of despair he clutched him by the hair and raised his head above the surface. Then, holding him at a safe distance, he continued his swim for the shore. The piece of acting designed to carry out their plot looked as if it were likely to become downright earnest, after all.
It was a long swim, and, being saddled with this additional burden, it taxed Ellison's strength and endurance to the uttermost. When he touched the beach on the opposite side, it was as much as he could do to carry the unfortunate body up out of the reach of the water. This done, his strength gave way entirely, and he threw himself down exhausted on the sand.