e rocks on its way to
the lagoon. A few minutes at most, and the hounds would be on the right
scent.

These things Roger told himself, but he had not sat still to listen.
After the first second of straining attention, he sprang up, threw off
his coat and waistcoat, and kicked off his shoes.

"I'm going to help him if I can," he said. "His strength may fail, or
some stray shark may be a little cleverer than its fellows and find its
way through the rushes. Anyhow, here goes; and if Dalahaide gets to you
before me, don't wait. Push out the best you can, and I'll catch you up,
swimming."

There was no time for arguing or objecting, even if it had been in
Trent's mind to do either. Since it was right for one to go, and Roger
chose to be that one, he must stay; but, even for Maxime's sake, and for
Madeleine's, he could not, he decided, leave Roger Broom to follow--for
there were the sharks. No, they three must stand or fall together,
whatever happened now.

The lagoon, in the spot where Roger left the launch, was too deep for
wading, nor could he swim there. Somehow--he scarcely knew how--he seemed
to tread water, his feet slipping among the slimy tangled stems that were
like a network under the surface, a brackish taste in his mouth, the
rank, salt smell of seaweeds in his nostrils, and his ears a soft, sly
rustling which might mean the disturbed protest of a thousand little
subterranean existences, or--the pursuit of an enemy more deadly than any
on land.

It was a harder task than he had thought; still he persevered.
"Dalahaide, where are you?" he called.

"Here!" came the answer, only a few yards away. "I'm caught in something,
and up to my knees in mud. I think my wound's broken out again. For
heaven's sake, go back and let them take me. After all, what does it
matter for me? I'm done. A thousand times better die than get you all
into trouble."

"You _all_!" Even in that moment Roger said to himself that "all" meant
Virginia. Dalahaide was thinking of her. He would rather die than she
should be punished for this bold attempt to break the law. But aloud
Roger cried out that he would go back with Maxime or he would not go back
at all, and cheering the other, with death in his own heart, he struggled
along, half swimming, half wading, but always moving on, how he hardly
knew. Then at last he saw a dark head, and a face, white in the
moonlight, floating seemingly on the reedy surface of the lagoon, like a
water lot