But　since　the　captain　committed　suicide；　he　says；　I　have　been
  sitting　here　thinking　it　out。　　All　sorts　of　things　happen。
  Conspiracy　to　lose　the　ship　…　attempted　murder　…　and　this　suicide。
  For　if　it　was　not　suicide；　Mr。　Cloete；　then　I　know　of　a　victim　of
  the　most　cruel；　cold…blooded　attempt　at　murder；　somebody　who　has
  suffered　a　thousand　deaths。　　And　that　makes　the　thousand　pounds　of
  which　we　spoke　once　a　quite　insignificant　sum。　　Look　how　very
  convenient　this　suicide　is。　。　。
  〃He　looks　up　at　Cloete　then；　who　smiles　at　him　and　comes　quite
  close　to　the　table。
  〃You　killed　Harry　Dunbar；　he　whispers。　。　。　The　fellow　glares　at　him
  and　shows　his　teeth：　　Of　course　I　did！　　I　had　been　in　that　cabin
  for　an　hour　and　a　half　like　a　rat　in　a　trap。　。　。　Shut　up　and　left
  to　drown　in　that　wreck。　　Let　flesh　and　blood　judge。　　Of　course　I
  shot　him！　　I　thought　it　was　you；　you　murdering　scoundrel；　come　back
  to　settle　me。　　He　opens　the　door　flying　and　tumbles　right　down　upon
  me；　I　had　a　revolver　in　my　hand；　and　I　shot　him。　　I　was　crazy。　　Men
  have　gone　crazy　for　less。
  〃Cloete　looks　at　him　without　flinching。　　Aha！　　That's　your　story；
  is　it？　。　。　。　And　he　shakes　the　table　a　little　in　his　passion　as　he
  speaks。　。　。　Now　listen　to　mine。　　What's　this　conspiracy？　　Who's
  going　to　prove　it？　　You　were　there　to　rob。　　You　were　rifling　his
  cabin；　he　came　upon　you　unawares　with　your　hands　in　the　drawer；　and
  you　shot　him　with　his　own　revolver。　　You　killed　to　steal　…　to
  steal！　　His　brother　and　the　clerks　in　the　office　know　that　he　took
  sixty　pounds　with　him　to　sea。　　Sixty　pounds　in　gold　in　a　canvas
  bag。　　He　told　me　where　they　were。　　The　coxswain　of　the　life…boat
  can　swear　to　it　that　the　drawers　were　all　empty。　　And　you　are　such
  a　fool　that　before　you're　half　an　hour　ashore　you　change　a
  sovereign　to　pay　for　a　drink。　　Listen　to　me。　　If　you　don't　turn　up
  day　after　to…morrow　at　George　Dunbar's　solicitors；　to　make　the
  proper　deposition　as　to　the　loss　of　the　ship；　I　shall　set　the
  police　on　your　track。　　Day　after　to…morrow。　。　。
  〃And　then　what　do　you　think？　　That　Stafford　begins　to　tear　his
  hair。　　Just　so。　　Tugs　at　it　with　both　hands　without　saying
  anything。　　Cloete　gives　a　push　to　the　table　which　nearly　sends　the
  fellow　off　his　chair；　tumbling　inside　the　fender；　so　that　he　has
  got　to　catch　hold　of　it　to　save　himself。　。　。
  〃You　know　the　sort　of　man　I　am；　Cloete　says；　fiercely。　　I've　got　to
  a　point　that　I　don't　care　what　happens　to　me。　　I　would　shoot　you
  now　for　tuppence。
  〃At　this　the　cur　dodges　under　the　table。　　Then　Cloete　goes　out；　and
  as　he　turns　in　the　street　…　you　know；　little　fishermen's　cottages；
  all　dark；　raining　in　torrents；　too　…　the　other　opens　the　window　of
  the　parlour　and　speaks　in　a　sort　of　crying　voice　…
  〃You　low　Yankee　fiend　…　I'll　pay　you　off　some　day。
  〃Cloete　passes　by　with　a　damn　bitter　laugh；　because　he　thinks　that
  the　fellow　in　a　way　has　paid　him　off　already；　if　he　only　knew　it。〃
  My　impressive　ruffian　drank　what　remained　of　his　beer；　while　his
  black；　sunken　eyes　looked　at　me　over　the　rim。
  〃I　don't　quite　understand　this；〃　I　said。　　〃In　what　way？〃
  He　unbent　a　little　and　explained　without　too　much　scorn　that
  Captain　Harry　being　dead；　his　half　of　the　insurance　money　went　to
  his　wife；　and　her　trustees　of　course　bought　consols　with　it。
  Enough　to　keep　her　comfortable。　　George　Dunbar's　half；　as　Cloete
  feared　from　the　first；　did　not　prove　sufficient　to　launch　the
  medicine　well；　other　moneyed　men　stepped　in；　and　these　two　had　to
  go　out　of　that　business；　pretty　nearly　shorn　of　everything。
  〃I　am　curious；〃　I　said；　〃to　learn　what　the　motive　force　of　this
  tragic　affair　was　…　I　mean　the　patent　medicine。　　Do　you　know？〃
  He　named　it；　and　I　whistled　respectfully。　　Nothing　less　than
  Parker's　Lively　Lumbago　Pills。　　Enormous　property！　　You　know　it；
  all　the　world　knows　it。　　Every　second　man；　at　least；　on　this　globe
  of　ours　has　tried　it。
  〃Why！〃　I　cried；　〃they　missed　an　immense　fortune。〃
  〃Yes；〃　he　mumbled；　〃by　the　price　of　a　revolver…shot。〃
  He　told　me　also　that　eventually　Cloete　returned　to　the　States；
  passenger　in　a　cargo…boat　from　Albert　Dock。　　The　night　before　he
  sailed　he　met　him　wandering　about　the　quays；　and　took　him　home　for
  a　drink。　　〃Funny　chap；　Cloete。　　We　sat　all　night　drinking　grogs；
  till　it　was　time　for　him　to　go　on　board。〃
  It　was　then　that　Cloete；　unembittered　but　weary；　told　him　this
  story；　with　that　utterly　unconscious　frankness　of　a　patent…medicine
  man　stranger　to　all　moral　standards。　　Cloete　concluded　by　remarking
  that　he；　had　〃had　enough　of　the　old　country。〃　　George　Dunbar　had
  turned　on　him；　too；　in　the　end。　　Cloete　was　clearly　somewhat
  disillusioned。
  As　to　Stafford；　he　died；　professed　loafer；　in　some　East　End
  hospital　or　other；　and　on　his　last　day　clamoured　〃for　a　parson；〃
  because　his　conscience　worried　him　for　killing　an　innocent　man。
  〃Wanted　somebody　to　tell　him　it　was　all　right；〃　growled　my　old
  ruffian；　contemptuously。　　〃He　told　the　parson　that　I　knew　this
  Cloete　who　had　tried　to　murder　him；　and　so　the　parson　（he　worked
  among　the　dock　labourers）　once　spoke　to　me　about　it。　　That　skunk　of
  a　fellow　finding　himself　trapped　yelled　for　mercy。　。　。　Promised　to
  be　good　and　so　on。　。　。　Then　he　went　crazy　。　。　。　screamed　and　threw
  himself　about；　beat　his　head　against　the　bulkheads　。　。　。　you　can
  guess　all　that　…　eh？　。　。　。　till　he　was　exhausted。　　Gave　up。　　Threw
  himself　down；　shut　his　eyes；　and　wanted　to　pray。　　So　he　says。
  Tried　to　think　of　some　prayer　for　a　quick　death　…　he　was　that
  terrified。　　Thought　that　if　he　had　a　knife　or　something　he　would
  cut　his　throat；　and　be　done　with　it。　　Then　he　thinks：　　No！　　Would
  try　to　cut　away　the　wood　about　the　lock。　。　。　He　had　no　knife　in　his
  pocket。　。　。　he　was　weeping　and　calling　on　God　to　send　him　a　tool　of
  some　kind　when　suddenly　he　thinks：　　Axe！　　In　most　ships　there　is　a
  spare　emergency　axe　kept　in　the　master's　room　in　some　locker　or
  other。　。　。　Up　he　jumps。　。　。　Pitch　dark。　　〃Pulls　at　the　drawers　to
  find　matches　and；　groping　for　them；　the　first　thing　he　comes　upon　…
  Captain　Harry's　revolver。　　Loaded　too。　　He　goes　perfectly　quiet　all
  over。　　Can　shoot　the　lock　to　pieces。　　See？　　Saved！　　God's
  providence！　　There　are　boxes　of　matches　too。　　Thinks　he：　　I　may
  just　as　well　see　what　I　am　about。
  〃Strikes　a　light　and　sees　the　little　canvas　bag　tucked　away　at　the
  back　of　the　drawer。　　Knew　at　once　what　that　was。　　Rams　it　into　his
  pocket　quick。　　Aha！　says　he　to　himself：　　this　requires　more　light。
  So　he　pitches　a　lot　of　paper　on　the　floor；　set　fire　to　it；　and
  starts　in　a　hurry　rummaging　for　more　valuables。　　Did　you　ever？　　He
  told　that　East…End　parson　that　the　devil　tempted　him。　　First　God's
  mercy　…　then　devil's　work。　　Turn　and　turn　about。　。　。
  〃Any　squirming　skunk　can　talk　like　that。　　He　was　so　busy　with　the
  drawers　that　the　first　thing　he　heard　was　a　shout；　Great　Heavens。
  He　looks　up　and　there　was　the　door　open　（Cloete　had　left　the　key　in
  the　lock）　and　Captain　Harry　holding　on；　well　above　him；　very　fierce
  in　the　light　of　the　burning　papers。　　His　eyes　were　starting　out　of
  his　head。　　Thieving；　he　thunders　at　him。　　A　sailor！　　An　officer！
  No！　　A　wretch　like　you　deserves　no　better　than　to　be　left　here　to
  drown。
  〃This　Stafford　…　on　his　death…bed　…　told　the　parson　that　when　he
  heard　these　words　he　went　crazy　again。　　He　snatched　his　hand　with
  the　revolver　in　it　out　of　the　drawer；　and　fired　without　aiming。
  Captain　Harry　fell　right　in　with　a　crash　like　a　stone　on　top　of　the
  burning　papers；　putting　the　blaze　out。　　All　dark。　　Not　a　sound。　　He
  listened　for　a　bit　then　dropped　the　revolver　and　scrambled　out　on
  deck　like　mad。〃
  The　old　fellow　struck　the　table　with　his　ponderous　fist。
  〃What　makes　me　sick　is　to　hear　these　silly　boat…men　telling　people
  the　captain　committed　suicide。　　Pah！　　Captain　Harry　was　a　man　that
  could　face　his　Maker　any　time　up　there；　and　here　below；　too。　　He
  wasn't　the　sort　to　slink　out　of　life。　　Not　he！　　He　was　a　good　man
  down　to　the　ground。　　He　gave　me　my　first　job　as　stevedore　only
  three　days　after　I　got　married。〃
  As　the　vindication　of　Captain　Harry　from　the　charge　of　suicide
  seemed　to　be　his　only　object；　I　did　not　thank　him　very　effusively
  for　his　material。　　And　then　it　was　not　worth　many　thanks　in　any
  case。
  For　it　is　too　startling　even　to　think　of　such　things　happening　in
  our　respectable　Channel　in　full　view；　so　to　speak；　of　the　luxurious
  continental　traffic　to　Switzerland　and　Monte　Carlo。　　This　story　to
  be　acceptable　should　have　been　transposed　to　somewhere　in　the　South
  Seas。　　But　it　would　have　been　too　much　trouble　to