I warned Burns that he
would probably be approached in the same way.

"Not that I am afraid," I added. "But keep the little Sloane woman at
a distance. She's quite capable of mesmerizing you with her eyes and
robbing you with her hands at the same time."

"I'd rather you'd carry it," he said, "although I'm not afraid of the
lady. It's not likely, after--"

He did not finish, but he glanced aft toward the jollyboat. Poor
Burns! I believe he had really cared for the Danish girl. Perhaps I
was foolish, but I refused to take the key from him; I felt sure he
could be trusted.

The murders had been committed on the early morning of Wednesday, the
12th. It was on the following Tuesday that Mrs. Sloane and I had our
little conversation on deck, and on Wednesday we came up with the
Buenos Aires.

It was on Friday, therefore, two days after the cargo steamer had slid
over the edge of the ocean, and left us, motionless, a painted ship
upon a painted sea, that the incident happened that completed the
demoralization of the crew.

For almost a week the lookouts had reported "All's well" in response to
the striking of the ship's bell. The hysteria, as Burns and I dubbed
it, of the white figure had died away as the men's nerves grew less
irritated. Although we had found no absolute explanation of the
marlinespike, an obvious one suggested itself. The men, although
giving up their weapons without protest, had grumbled somewhat over
being left without means of defense. It was entirely possible, we
agreed, that the marlinespike had been so disposed, as some seaman's
resort in time of need.

The cook, taking down the dinner on Friday evening, reported Mr. Turner
up and about and partly dressed. The heat was frightful. All day we
had had a following breeze, and it had been necessary to lengthen the
towing-rope, dropping the jolly-boat well behind us. The men, saying
little or nothing, dozed under their canvas; the helmsman drooped at
the wheel. Under our feet the boards sent up simmering heat waves, and
the brasses were too hot to touch.

At four o'clock Elsa Lee came on deck, and spoke to me for the first
time in several days. She started when she saw me, and no wonder. In
the frenzied caution of the day after the crimes, I had flung every
razor overboard, and the result was as villainous a set of men as I
have ever seen.

"Have you been ill again?" she asked.

I put my hand to my chin. "Not ill," I said; "mer