“Ye will hear his news in good time,” he informed her, and turned to Carroll. “In a few words, the capital wasna subscribed; it leaked out that the ore was running poor and we held an emergency meeting. With Vane away, I could put no confidence into the shareholders—they were anxious to get from under—and Horsfield brought forward an amalgamation scheme: his friends would take the property over, on their valuation. I and a few others were outvoted; the scheme went through, and when the announcement steadied the stock, which had been tumbling down, I exercised the authority given me and sold your shares and Vane’s at considerably less than their face value. Ye can have particulars later. What I have to ask now is: Where is Vane?”
The man’s voice grew sharp; the question was flung out like an accusation, but Carroll still looked at Evelyn. He felt very bitter against her.
“I left him in the bush with no more than a few days’ provisions and a broken leg,” he said.
Then, in spite of Evelyn’s efforts to retain her composure, her face blanched; and Carroll’s anger vanished, because the truth was clear. Vane had triumphed through disaster; his peril and ruin had swept his offences away. The girl, who had condemned him in his prosperity, would not turn away from him in misfortune. In the meanwhile, the others sat silent, gazing at the bearer of evil news, until he spoke again.
“I want a tug to take me back at once, if she can be got,” he said. “I’ll pick up a few men along the water-front.”
Nairn rose and went out of the room. The tinkle of a telephone bell reached those who remained, and he came back a minute or two later.
“I’ve sent Whitney round,” he announced. “He’ll come across if there’s a boat to be had, and now ye look as if ye needed lunch.”
“It’s several weeks since I had one,” said Carroll with a smile.
The meal was brought in, but for a while he talked as well as ate; relating his adventures in somewhat disjointed fragments, while the rest sat listening. He was also pleased to notice something which suggested returning confidence in him in Evelyn’s intent eyes as the tale proceeded. When at last he had made the matter clear, he added: “If I keep you waiting, you’ll excuse me.”
His hostess watched his subsequent efforts with candid approval, and, looking up once or twice, he saw sympathy in the girl’s face, instead of the astonishment or disgust he had half expected. When he had finished, his hostess rose and Carroll stood up, but Nairn signed to him to resume his place.