Then he proceeded to place before the astounded baronet a detailed history of his recent career.  It was a sordid story of woman’s perfidy, twice told.  It carried conviction in every sentence.  It was possible, of course, to explain matters more fully to the baronet than to Iris, and Anstruther’s fierce resentment of the cruel wrong inflicted upon him blazed forth with overwhelming force.  The intensity of his wrath in no way impaired the cogency of his arguments.  Rather did it lend point and logical brevity.  Each word burned itself into his hearer’s consciousness, for Robert did not know that the unfortunate father was being coerced to a distasteful compact by the scoundrel who figured in the narrative as his evil genius.

At the conclusion Sir Arthur bowed his head between his hands.

“I cannot choose but believe you,” he admitted huskily.  “Yet how came you to be so unjustly convicted by a tribunal composed of your brother officers?”

“They could not help themselves.  To acquit me meant that they discredited the sworn testimony not only of my Colonel’s wife, but of the civil head of an important Government Mission, not to mention some bought Chinese evidence.  Am I the first man to be offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of official expediency?”

“But you are powerless now.  You can hardly hope to have your case revised.  What chance is there that your name will ever be cleared?”

“Mrs. Costobell can do it if she will.  The vagaries of such a woman are not to be depended on.  If Lord Ventnor has cast her off, her hatred may ’prove stronger than her passion.  Anyhow, I should be the last man to despair of God’s Providence.  Compare the condition of Iris and myself today with our plight during the second night on the ledge!  I refuse to believe that a bad and fickle woman can resist the workings of destiny, and it was a happy fate which led me to ship on board the Sirdar, though at the time I saw it in another light.”

How different the words, the aspirations, of the two suitors.  Quite unconsciously, Robert could not have pleaded better.  The shipowner sighed heavily.

“I hope your faith will be justified.  If it be not—­the more likely thing to happen—­do I understand that my daughter and you intend to get married whether I give or withhold my sanction?”

Anstruther rose and opened the door.

“I have ventured to tell you,” he said, “why she should not marry Lord Ventnor.  When I come to you and ask you for her, which I pray may be soon, it will be time enough to answer that question, should you then decide to put it.”

It must be remembered that Robert knew nothing whatever of the older man’s predicament, whilst the baronet, full of his own troubles, was in no mood to take a reasonable view of Anstruther’s position.  Neither Iris nor Robert could make him understand the long-drawn-out duel of their early life on the island, nor was it easy to depict the tumultuous agony of that terrible hour on the ledge when the girl forced the man to confess his love by suggesting acceptance of the Dyaks’ terms.