leton by the arm.

"Do something!" I raved. "Call the crew. Get somebody here, you
drunken fool!"

He rose and staggered up the companionway, and I ran to Miss Lee's
door. It was closed and locked, as were all the others except Vail's
and the one I had broken open. I reached Mr. Turner's door last. It
was locked, and I got no response to my knock. I remembered that his
room and Vail's connected through a bath, and, still holding my
revolver leveled, I ran into Vail's room again, this time turning on
the light.

A night light was burning in the bath-room, and the door beyond was
unlocked. I flung it open and stepped in. Turner was lying on his
bed, fully dressed, and at first I thought he too had been murdered.
But he was in a drunken stupor. He sat up, dazed, when I shook him by
the arm.

"Mr. Turner!" I cried. "Try to rouse yourself, man! The captain has
been murdered, and Mr. Vail!"

He made an effort to sit up, swayed, and fell back again. His face was
swollen and purplish, his eyes congested. He made an effort to speak,
but failed to be intelligible. I had no time to waste. Somewhere on
the Ella the murderer was loose. He must be found.

I flung out of Turner's cabin as the crew, gathered from the forecastle
and from the decks, crowded down the forward companionway. I ran my eye
over them. Every man was there, Singleton below by the captain's body,
the crew, silent and horror-struck, grouped on the steps: Clarke,
McNamara, Burns, Oleson, and Adams. Behind the crew, Charlie Jones had
left the wheel and stood peering down, until sharply ordered back.
Williams, with a bandage on his head, and Tom, the mulatto cook, were
in the group.

I stood, revolver in hand, staring at the men. Among them, I felt
sure, was the murderer. But which one? All were equally pale, equally
terrified.

"Boys," I said, "Mr. Vail and your captain have been murdered. The
murderer must be on the ship--one of ourselves." There was a murmur at
that. "Mr. Singleton, I suggest that these men stay together in a
body, and that no one be allowed to go below until all have been
searched and all weapons taken from them."

Singleton had dropped into a chair, and sat with his face buried in his
hands, his back to the captain's body. He looked up without moving,
and his face was gray.

"All right," he said. "Do as you like. I'm sick."

He looked sick. Burns, who had taken Schwartz's place as second mate,
left the g