"I beg your pardon, Sir--there's nothing surprising in it," he returned.
"We were school-fellows at Eton, in the old times. And I have met
Geoffrey since, when he was yachting, and when I was with my ship.
Geoffrey saved my life, Sir Patrick," he added, his voice rising, and
his eyes brightening with honest admiration of his friend. "But for
him, I should have been drowned in a boat-accident. Isn't _that_ a good
reason for his being a friend of mine?"
"It depends entirely on the value you set on your life," said Sir
Patrick.
"The value I set on my life?" repeated Arnold. "I set a high value on
it, of course!"
"In that case, Mr. Delamayn has laid you under an obligation."
"Which I can never repay!"
"Which you will repay one of these days, with interest--if I know any
thing of human nature," answered Sir Patrick.
He said the words with the emphasis of strong conviction. They were
barely spoken when Mr. Delamayn appeared (exactly as Miss Silvester
had appeared) at the entrance to the summer-house. He, too, vanished,
unnoticed--like Miss Silvester again. But there the parallel stopped.
The Honorable Geoffrey's expression, on discovering the place to be
occupied, was, unmistakably an expression of relief.
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