Red Rose remained in port for a week. Wyndham needed a stay and fastenings for the new bowsprit, and although the Welsh ship-chandler could supply him with galvanized iron articles he sent to Southampton for copper. Marston thought this curious, but Harry was fastidious about the boat and for use in salt water copper was better than iron. The party, however, was not bored. Porth Gwynedd, with its small slate houses standing between the clear, green water and the quarries that scarred the face of a hill, was picturesque. The breeze was light and warm, and sunshine sparkled on the sea. They went fishing, swam about a sheltered cove, and climbed the rocks. Wyndham's mood was cheerful and Flora was content. She thought Harry was recovering from the strain; a rest was all he needed and she was glad she had persuaded him to make the cruise.

When the new bowsprit was fitted they set off again along the coast and stopped at another rock-bound port. A summer hotel stood by a cove outside the little town, and a day or two after their arrival Marston and Wyndham lounged on the terrace by the water at the end of the lawn. The spot was sheltered by a tall cliff, and a thick shrubbery ran between the grass and terrace. Flora and Mabel occupied a bench in a nook cut out of the thick foliage. The sun was hot, and all was very quiet but for the drowsy splash of water on the rocks and the intermittent rustle of leaves.

"I like this spot," said Flora. "I have enjoyed the cruise. There's something about the sea that soothes one."

"Do you need soothing?" Mabel asked.

Flora smiled, a rather thoughtful smile. "Not in a way. I've good grounds for being satisfied; but I had begun to get disturbed about Harry. He works too hard. No doubt he's forced to bother about his business, but he looked thin and was sometimes moody."

"He has done too much," Mabel agreed. "Bob tells me things are going remarkably well for Wyndhams'. All the same, I expect it has cost Harry some effort."

"Harry does not grudge the effort," said Flora. "I grudge it for him. It was mainly for my sake he went abroad and overtaxed his strength in an unhealthy climate in order to make Wyndhams' prosperous." She stopped and looked up, knitting her brows. "Here is the little man I saw on board the steamer! I wonder what he wants."

Mabel studied the man who crossed the lawn. She remembered that she had seen him at Flora's wedding. His face was yellow and wrinkled, and although he wore light summer clothes made in the latest English fashion there was something foreign about him. He went towards the shrubbery with quick resolute steps.

"It's Peters, somebody Bob and Harry met abroad," Mabel remarked. "No doubt he's looking for them; they're on the terrace not far off.""It's strange, but I feel I'd sooner he hadn't come," said Flora with a frown.

The man vanished behind the shrubs and a few moments afterwards Wyndham, lighting a cigarette on the terrace, dropped the match.

"Peters!" he exclaimed.

"Hallo!" said Marston, who turned and gave the newcomer an unfriendly glance. "We didn't expect you."

Peters sat down on a bench. "All the same, I have followed you along the coast for a week. Felt I needed a change after my adventures with the exploring party, which I dare say you heard about. Business was slack, and I had a dispute with my employers. I resolved to give up my post, caught a Royal Mail boat, and here I am."

"I don't see why you followed us," said Marston, coldly.

"Then I must explain. Some time since, I suggested your giving me a partnership. The plan has some extra advantages now."

"The advantages are not very obvious," Marston rejoined.

"Let me state them," said Peters, coolly. "The back country behind the lagoon is disturbed; there are indications that the negroes and half-breeds mean to rebel and Ramon Larrinaga is resolved to put them down. It's possible he may do so, but I doubt."

"I don't know if this is much of an argument for our extending our business in the neighborhood. But why do you doubt Don Ramon's ability to keep order?"

"It's an argument for your putting a man who knows the country in control. If a rebellion breaks out, there will be opportunities for business such as one seldom gets; that is, if the situation's cleverly handled. But we'll let this go in the meantime. Larrinaga has a cunning antagonist who is much stronger than he thinks."

"You mean the Bat?"

Peters nodded. "I expect you have heard about the black Napoleon who founded a negro state in the Antilles? Well, it's not impossible the Bat will make himself as powerful as the other."

"Ridiculous!" said Marston. "Such things can't be done again; the times have changed."

"I wonder whether Wyndham thinks it ridiculous. He's better informed than you," Peters said meaningly.

Marston turned to Wyndham, but he said nothing. His face was set and he looked as if he tried to brace himself.

"You had an example of the Bat's power not long since," Peters went on. "My exploring companions were poisoned, but not before the tropical diseases man had made some interesting discoveries. Although the swamp-belt is unhealthy, malarial fever is not so common as some people think. In fact, it does not account for all the fatal sickness."

"Yet strangers die from fever and among the half-breeds the mortality is large."

"That is so," Peters agreed. "All the same, my notion is, it's better to study Obeah than medicine, and, if you want to enjoy good health, cultivate the friendship of the Bat. He knows how to get rid of people he disapproves.""The brute ought to be shot! However, I don't see what this has got to do with our giving you a share in our business."

"I think your partner sees," said Peters, meaningly, and Wyndham advanced a few steps with his fist clenched. His eyes shone and the veins on his forehead swelled; but when Marston thought he would seize the other he stopped a yard or two off.

"How much do you know?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Nearly all, I think," Peters replied, and turned to Marston. "The Bat is clever and knows how to use the natural products of the swamps. In fact, I imagine some of his discoveries would surprise our doctors. He cannot, however, make all he needs, and somebody has supplied him with arms and cartridges, besides chemicals and drugs in use in civilized countries. It's sometimes an advantage to cure your friends as well as destroy your antagonists, and the power of an up-to-date Obeah man is not altogether founded on magic."

"Who has supplied him?" Marston asked, with strange and horrible misgivings.

Peters smiled. "You were very dull for some time, but I think you begin to see. Well, I suppose you can comfort yourself with the reflection that when you shared the profit you didn't know how it was earned."

Marston turned and struggled for control when he saw Wyndham's face. The sweat stood on the latter's forehead and he shrank from his comrade's glance.

"Is this true, Harry?" Marston asked. "Have we been backing that devilish mulatto?""You know now," said Wyndham, with forced quietness. "It looks as if you had got a nasty knock. I'd hoped you would not find out."

Marston tried to pull himself together. He must be calm, but calm was hard. Peters gave him a mocking smile.

"There's something yet. The Bat is not a mulatto."

"Not a mulatto?" said Marston dully. "What is he then?"

"A white man. If you're not satisfied, ask your partner. He knows him best."

"Who is the Bat, Harry?"

"Rupert Wyndham," Wyndham answered and turned his head.

For a moment or two Marston said nothing, and then his lethargy vanished. Horror gave way to fury and he clenched his hand as he turned to Peters.

"You have shot your bolt and missed," he said. "You're a cunning brute, but all the same a fool. Now get off, or I'll throw you over the wall."

Peters hesitated. His surprise was plain, and Wyndham's tense face softened to a grim smile. Peters had not reckoned on Bob. The latter advanced upon him threateningly.

"Did you think you could blackmail us?" he resumed with a hoarse laugh. "That we'd take you for a partner in order to keep you silent while we got rich? The thing's ridiculous! Now you begin to understand this, aren't you going?"

Peters said nothing and went. His mistake was obvious; he might have forced Wyndham to accept his terms, but he had misjudged Marston. When he had gone, Marston sat down, rather limply, and there was silence for a few minutes.

"Well?" said Wyndham at length.

Marston looked up. "I have got a knock, but the thing's done and there's no use in calling myself a careless fool. For all that, I ought to have seen what was going on; I'm a partner in the house."

"And if you had seen?" Wyndham asked.

"I'd have stopped the business and brought you away."

"It's possible. You're a resolute fellow, Bob. But what are you going to do about it now?"

"Put things straight; as far as money can put them straight," said Marston, quietly. "The cost doesn't matter. It's lucky I am rich."

"Then you don't mean to break the partnership and give me up?"

"Certainly not," said Marston in a surprised voice. "We are partners for good and bad, and Mabel is Flora's friend. When we started for Africa, she told me my job was to stand by you."

Wyndham laughed, a bitter laugh. "It looks as if I didn't cheat Mabel when I cheated all the rest. But you had better let me go before your staunchness costs you too much."

"I'm going to stick to you," Marston declared. "I undertook the job; there's no more to be said." He paused and resumed quietly: "How did you get into Rupert Wyndham's power?"

Wyndham's grimness vanished. He looked embarrassed and moved. "You're a very good sort, Bob. I don't know if I did get into his power; anyhow, not at first. I rather think ambition carried me away. You have not known poverty; I doubt if you'll understand."

"I'll try," said Marston, and Wyndham went on:

"The house was bankrupt when I got control, and I was in love with Flora. Perhaps you think it was dishonorable to tell her so. Well, I haven't your scruples and we Wyndhams like a risk. The worst was, I let her run a risk she didn't know. We met the Bat at the lagoon and he showed me how I could get rich. He knew me; I didn't know him at the beginning. Can't you see the situation? I'd won the girl I loved, but I must support my wife. I couldn't force her to bear hardship because she loved me, and, for her sake, I must satisfy her friends. Well, I saw and seized my chance, and almost before I knew I'd gone so far I could not draw back."

"Did you want to draw back?" Marston asked.

Wyndham gave him a curious smile. "You're cleverer than people think, Bob. Sometimes I was sorry I had begun, but I imagine I would not have stopped if I could. I meant to get rich; to give Flora a high place, and—though the statement looks ironical—to justify myself. Well, I went on until bad luck sent Peters to pull me up."

Marston pondered for a moment or two. "Now I understand why the witches in Macbeth made me think about the Bat; they tempted him with lying promises. But I'm not much of a philosopher and we have the Bat to reckon on. Peters doesn't count."

"Doesn't he count?" Wyndham asked.

"Not at all," said Marston. "When he told me his secret, he lost the power to bully you. The fellow's a fool; he thought me greedy.""But he can tell others, Larrinaga, for example."

"That's not important," said Marston quietly. "We don't want to earn more money by helping the Bat. We're going to put things straight, and if Larrinaga's government has a just claim on us, we must pay."

"After all, the Bat's my uncle," Wyndham remarked.

"Yes," said Marston. "It complicates things. We must go out again and get him away."

"Get him away? The man is powerful. I doubt if the government can put him down."

"For all that we're going to try."

"You're an obstinate fellow, Bob. We'll talk about it again. There is somebody else Peters might tell."

"Flora? He'll be too late. You must tell her now."

For a moment or two Wyndham's mouth set firm and the sweat stood on his forehead. Then he said quietly, "It will be a hard job, desperately hard; all the same, I suppose it can't be put off. Rupert Wyndham and the powers he stands for have cheated me, but I must pay."

Marston made a sign of agreement. "When you have paid, you're free, and can begin again."

Then he turned and saw Flora in the narrow path between the bushes. Her face was white, but her eyes were gentle when she looked at him. "Thank you, Bob! We owe you much," she said.

Marston pulled himself together and gave her a friendly smile. Then he touched Wyndham's arm, as if to encourage him, and left them alone.