, grinding crash.

It will never be known what Cruise had heard or seen in the last moments
of his life. No one on board the Doraine, however, doubted for an
instant that he had discovered, too late, the truth about his misshapen
assistant. They now knew with almost absolute certainty the identity of
the odd man in that devilish trio, the man whose footsteps Percival had
heard, the man who stayed behind to guarantee the consummation of the
hideous plot. Coward in the end, he shirked the death he was pledged to
accept. He knew what was coming. Unlike his braver comrades, he took the
simplest way.

The count began. Late in the afternoon it was completed. There were
forty-six known dead on board the Doraine, the majority being members
of the crew. Seventeen persons were missing, chiefly from the steerage.
Twenty-nine seriously injured were under the doctor's care. Some of
them would not recover. A hundred or more persons suffered from shock,
bruises, cuts and exposure, but only a few of them required or demanded
attention. In spite of their injuries, they fell to with the spirit that
makes for true heroism and devoted themselves to the care of the less
fortunate, or to the assistance of the sorely-tried officers and men who
strove to bring order out of chaos.

Among the survivors were two American surgeons and a physician from Rio
Janeiro. They, with the nurses, all of whom had been saved, immediately
went to the relief of the ship's doctor, and in short order an
improvised hospital was established. There was a remarkable unanimity
of self-sacrifice among the passengers. High and low, they fell to in
a frenzy of comradeship, and worked side by side in whatsoever capacity
they were needed, whether fitted for it or not. No man, no woman,
who was able to lift a helping hand, failed in this hour of need. The
bereaved, as well as those who were untouched by a personal grief, gave
all that was in them, tearfully, grimly, ardently.

Menial labour fell to the lot of the lordly but uncomplaining Landover,
to Block and Nicklestick, Jones and Snipe, and even to the precious
Signor Joseppi, who, forgetting his Caruso-like throat, toiled and
sweated in the smoky saloon.

Morris Shine, the motion picture magnate, the while he laboured amidst
the wreckage of the after deck, lamented not the cheerless task but the
evil fate that prevented the making of the most spectacular film the
world had ever known.

Madame Careni-Amori, Madame