We were stumbling along, Clarke with the lantern,
I next, and Charlie Jones behind, on our way to the
ladder again, when I received a stunning blow on the
back of the head. I turned dizzy, expecting
nothing less than sudden death, when it developed that
Jones, having stumbled over a loose plank, had fallen
forward, the revolver in his outstretched hand striking
my head.
He picked himself up sheepishly, and we went on.
But so unnerved was I by this fresh shock that it
was a moment or two before I could essay the ladder.
Burns was waiting at the hatchway, peering down.
Beside him on the deck lay a bloodstained axe.
Elsa Lee, on hearing the story of Henrietta Sloane,
had gone to the maids’ cabin, and had found
it where it had been flung into the berth of the stewardess.
THE STEWARDESS’S STORY
But, after all, the story of Henrietta Sloane only
added to the mystery. She told it to me, sitting
propped in a chair in Mrs. Johns’s room, her
face white, her lips dry and twitching. The crew
were making such breakfast as they could on deck, and
Mr. Turner was still in a stupor in his room across
the main cabin. The four women, drawn together
in their distress, were huddled in the center of the
room, touching hands now and then, as if finding comfort
in contact, and reassurance.
“I went to bed early,” said the stewardess;
“about ten o’clock, I think. Karen
had not come down; I wakened when the watch changed.
It was hot, and the window from our room to the deck
was open. There is a curtain over it, to keep
the helmsman from looking in—it is close
to the wheel. The bell, striking every half-hour,
does not waken me any more, although it did at first.
It is just outside the window. But I heard
the watch change. I heard eight bells struck,
and the lookout man on the forecastle head call, ‘All’s
well.’
“I sat up and turned on the lights. Karen
had not come down, and I was alarmed. She had
been—had been flirting a little with one
of the sailors, and I had warned her that it would
not do. She’d be found out and get into
trouble.
“The only way to reach our cabin was through
the chart-room, and when I opened the door an inch
or two, I saw why Karen had not come down. Mr.
Turner and Mr. Singleton were sitting there.
They were—” She hesitated.
“Please go on,” said Mrs. Turner.
“They were drinking?”
“Yes, Mrs. Turner. And Mr. Vail was there,
too. He was saying that the captain would come
down and there would be more trouble. I shut
the door and stood just inside, listening. Mr.
Singleton said he hoped the captain would come—that
he and Mr. Turner only wanted a chance to get at him.”
Miss Lee leaned forward and searched the stewardess’s
face with strained eyes.
“You are sure that he mentioned Mr. Turner in
that?”
