Captain Treherne seemed all unconscious of the pallid countenance, the failing breath, the halting step of the old man. For, indeed, Colonel Kenwynton was fain to catch at his companion’s arm for support as he listened, panting.
“Come, Colonel, you will come with me. I need your advice. You can wield a paddle, and together we can make the distance.”
Only the obviously impossible checked the old soldier.
“Wield a paddle against this current, my dear sir? Make the distance! You forget my age--seventy-five, sir; seventy-five years.”
“It is not life and death, Colonel. We have faced that together, you and I, and laughed at both. Dishonest possession is involved now, and legalized robbery, and hidden assets. And _I_ have the secret of the cache, Colonel, _I_, alone. It must be revealed. I need your help. This is the crucial crisis of my life. My life--!” He broke off with an accent of scorn--“of lives worth infinitely more than mine. And, Colonel Kenwynton,” he laid a sudden, lean hand on the old man’s arm, “the helpless! For they know nothing of their rights. It must be revealed to one who will annul this wrong, this heinous disaster.”
He had drawn very close, and his grasp on the Colonel’s arm, that had once been so firm-fleshed and sinewy, seemed to crush the collapsed muscles into the very bone. The old man winced with the pain, but stood firm.
“I’m with you, heart and soul, always. Command me. But, my dear boy, this is impracticable. Let’s get a roustabout to row.”
The intensifying grip might really have broken the old man’s bone.
“Not for your life--never a whisper to any other living creature! Only you can do this. I--I--I should not be believed.”
“Not believed! You!” cried Colonel Kenwynton in a tone of such indignant, vicarious, insulted pride, that what self-control the other man possessed broke down; he flung his arms about the old man’s quivering frame, bowed his head on the Colonel’s shoulder and sobbed aloud.
“Not even you would believe me--if you knew--if you knew what I have been--what I am.”
“Exactly what I do know,” said the Colonel, sturdily. “You are overcome by your emotions, dear old fellow. You are overwrought. We will put an end to this, sir. Come, halloo the boat. I can’t halloo, Cap--think of that for me!--damn this cough! Halloo the boat, and tell the mate to send us a roustabout to paddle. Or, hadn’t we better take the yawl? That dug-out looks tricky--and, by God, man, it’s leaky.” He had advanced to the brink where the craft lay.