The Real Charlotte. 105 



" Come, Lambert, let go ! " he said threateningly, " and 

 help me to get her out of the water. You need not be 

 afraid, you can hold on to the boat." 



Lambert had not hitherto tried to speak, but now with 

 the support that the yacht gave him, his breath came back 

 to him a little. 



" Damn you ! " he spluttered, the loud sobbing breaths 

 almost choking him, " I'm not afraid ! Let her go ! Take 

 your arm from round her, I can hold her better than you 

 can. Ah ! " he shrieked, suddenly seeing Francie's face, as 

 Christopher, without regarding what he said, drew her 

 steadily up from his exhausted grasp, " she's dead ! you've 

 let her drown ! " 



His head fell forward, and Christopher thought with the 

 calm of despair, " He's going under, and I can't help him if 

 he does. Here, Lambert ! man alive, don't let go I There ! 

 do you hear the launch whistling ? They're coming to 

 us ? " 



Lambert's hand, with its shining gold signet-ring, was 

 gripping the coaming under water with a grasp that was 

 already mechanical. It seemed to Christopher that it had 

 a yellow, drowned look about it. He put out his foot, and, 

 getting it under Lambert's chin, lifted his mouth out of the 

 water. The steam-launch was whistling incessantly, in 

 long notes, in short ones, in jerks, and he lifted up his 

 voice against the forces of the wind and the hissing and 

 dashing of the water to answer her. Perhaps it was the 

 dull weight on his arm and the stricken stillness of the face 

 that lay in uiter unconsciousness on his shoulder, but he 

 scarcely recognised his own voice, it was broken with such 

 a tone of stress and horror. He had never before heard such 

 music as Hawkins' shout hailing him in answer, nor seen a 

 sight so heavenly fair as the bow of the Serpolette cutting 

 its way through the thronging waves to their rescue. White 

 faces staring over her gunwale broke into a loud cry when 

 they saw him hanging, half-spent, against the tilted deck of 

 the Daphne. It was well, he thought, that they had not 

 waited any longer. The only question was whether they 

 were not even now too late. His head swam from excite- 

 ment and fatigue, bis arms and knees trembled, and when 

 at last Francie, Lambert, and finally he himself, were lifted 



