e. This I am now prepared to
believe.

"'But, to resume the account of the coolie,' Lee Fu went on with
exasperating deliberation. 'This is what he saw: Our friend Captain
Wilbur descended into the lower hold and forward to the forepeak, where
there was little cargo. There he worked with great effort for several
hours. He had equipped himself with a short crowbar, and carried a light
tackle wrapped beneath his coat. The tackle he loosened and hung to a
hook above the middle of the port; it was merely for the purpose of
lowering the iron crossbars so that they would make no noise. Had one
fallen--'

"'Good God, Lee Fu, what are you trying to tell me?'

"'Merely an incident of the night. So, with the crowbar, Captain Wilbur
pried loose the iron braces, slinging them in his tackle and dropping
them softly one by one into the ship's bottom. It was a heavy task; the
coolie said that sweat poured from the big man like rain. Last of all he
covered the bars with dunnage, and rolled against the bow several bulky
bales of matting to conceal the work. Captain, when the "Speedwell"
sailed from Hong Kong in command of our honored friend, one of her great
bow ports below the water hung on its hinges without internal
fastenings, and held in place only by the tightness of the caulking. The
first heavy weather--'

"'Can this be possible?' I said through clenched teeth.

"'Oh, yes, so easily possible that it happened,' answered Lee Fu.

"'But why should he do such a thing? Had he anything against Turner?'

"'Captain, you do not understand. He merely was tired of the vessel; and
freights are becoming very poor. He wanted his insurance. He had no
thought of disaster so he now assures himself; what he had in mind was
for the ship to sink discreetly in pleasant weather. Yet he was willing
enough to run the chance of wholesale murder.'

"I got up and began pacing the floor; the damnable affair had made me
sick at heart, and a little sick at the stomach.

"'Thus the gods have struck,' said Lee Fu behind me, in that changeless
voice that for a moment seemed to concentrate the echo of the ages.
'There is blood at last, Captain--twenty-seven lives, and among them one
dear to us--enough even to convince one of your race that a crime has
been committed. But I was mistaken in much that I foresaw. The criminal,
it seems, is destined not to suffer. He has escaped the gods.'

"Can't you bring him to a reckoning? Isn't there some way--'

"L