Preston reflected.
“That seems the only solution,” he said at last. “But, as I say—nobody must know.”
“Nobody shall know, sir.”
“Right.”
He turned, and called to Yootha to come aboard. Then he told her of the arrangement.
She was pale, and looked greatly worried. There were dark marks under her eyes, and a casual acquaintance who had met her in the afternoon would hardly have believed her now to be the same woman. She was silent and distraite.
“To-night’s adventure seems like a horrid nightmare,” she exclaimed a little later, suddenly gripping Preston’s arm. “What is it makes people so horrible, Charlie? All to-day we were so happy, and now——”
She stopped abruptly, and a sob choked her. Preston put his arms about her, kissing her at first gently, then passionately, on the lips.
“My little girl mustn’t fret,” he murmured. “I know it is all dreadful, but it will pass. We think now there is no way of escape, because we can see none, but we shall find a way. My darling must leave everything to me and place implicit confidence in me.”
But though he spoke thus his heart was heavy. And on the top of it all here was Yootha alone with him in his house-boat for the night. True, nobody need know, but the risk of discovery existed, and so long as it existed there was danger, especially in view of his and Yootha’s experience during the past few hours. Blackmailers he had for years looked upon with loathing, and always he had told himself that should he by any extraordinary mishap ever render himself open to blackmail he would then and there face the music, attack his attacker, thrash him if need be, do anything and everything sooner than accede to any scoundrel’s proposals.