"He was under the boat," said Lord Newhaven, looking narrowly at the exhausted face of the man he had saved, and unable for the life of him to help a momentary fellow-feeling about the little dog.
Hugh remembered. It all came back, the boat, Crack's dying gasps, the agonized struggle, the strait gate of death, the difficult passage through it, the calm beyond. He had almost got through, and had been dragged back.
"Why did you interfere?" he said, in sudden passion, his eyes flaming in his white face.
A dull color rose to Lord Newhaven's cheek.
"I thought it was an accident," he said. "If it was not, I beg your pardon."
There was a moment's silence.
"It was an accident," said Hugh, hoarsely, and he turned on his elbow and looked fixedly at the water, so that his companion might not see the working of his face.
Lord Newhaven walked slowly away in the direction of Doll, whose distant figure, followed by another, was hurrying towards them.
"And so there is a Rachel as well, is there?" he said to himself, vainly trying to steel himself against his adversary.
"How is he now?" said Doll, coming within ear-shot.