"No, I'm not," said Blundell; "but it would be better in every way to save somebody else. She'll see Daly standing there doing nothing, while I am struggling for my life. I've thought it all out very carefully. I know I'm not quick, but I'm sure, and when I make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. You ought to know that."
"That's all very well," said the other; "but who else is there to push in?"
"That's all right," said Blundell, vaguely. "Don't you worry about that; I shall find somebody."
Mr. Turnbull turned and cast a speculative eye along the quay. As a rule, he had great confidence in Blundell's determination, but on this occasion he had his doubts.
"Well, it's a riddle to me," he said, slowly. "I give it up. It seems— Halloa! Good heavens, be careful. You nearly had me in then."
"Did I?" said Blundell, thickly. "I'm very sorry."
Mr. Turnbull, angry at such carelessness, accepted the apology in a grudging spirit and trudged along in silence. Then he started nervously as a monstrous and unworthy suspicion occurred to him. It was an incredible thing to suppose, but at the same time he felt that there was nothing like being on the safe side, and in tones not quite free from significance he intimated his desire of changing places with his awkward friend.
"It's all right," said Blundell, soothingly.
"I know it is," said Mr. Turnbull, regarding him fixedly; "but I prefer this side. You very near had me over just now."
"I staggered," said Mr. Blundell.