"Don't take it too hard, Pixley," said Graeme quietly, laying a friendly hand on the other's shoulder. "It may not be as bad as this puts it. Codes are brutally bald things, you know"
The bowed head shook pitifully. He raised his white face and looked round at them with a shocked shrinking in his eyes.
"God forgive him!" he jerked. "And God forgive me, for I have doubted him at times! He was so—so—so demned good"—and Graeme's lips twitched in spite of himself, so closely was the expression in accord with his own feelings. But Pixley did not see the twitch, for he was looking at Margaret and Hennie Penny, and he was saying with vehemence—
"Will you believe me that I knew absolutely nothing of this? He never discussed his affairs with me nor I mine with him, and we had no business together except on purely business lines. If he had to buy or sell he sent it my way, of course,—nothing more. You will believe me, Graeme—"
"Every word, my boy—"
"We all believe it, Mr. Pixley," said Hennie Penny warmly.
"And I know it, Charles," said Margaret.
"It is very good of you all," he groaned. "I must get back at once, Graeme. How soon is there a boat?"
"Five o'clock. You'll have to stop a night in Guernsey, which is a nuisance."
Charles Svendt shook his head in dumb misery. It was crushing to be so far away—thirty hours at least, and he gnashing within to be on the spot and at work, learning the worst, seeing what could be done.