Thrilled with a vague anxiety, Randolph edged forward for a nearer view of the wretched derelict still gently undulating on the towline.  The closer he looked the more he was impressed by the idea of some frightful mask that hid a face that refused to be recognized.  But his attention became fixed on a man who was giving some advice or orders and examining the body scrutinizingly.  Without knowing why, Randolph felt a sudden aversion to him, which was deepened when the man, lifting his head, met Randolph’s eyes with a pair of shifting yet aggressive ones.  He bore, nevertheless, an odd, weird likeness to the missing man Randolph was seeking, which strangely troubled him.  As the stranger’s eyes followed him and lingered with a singular curiosity on Randolph’s dress, he remembered with a sudden alarm that he was wearing the suit of the missing man.  A quick impulse to conceal himself came upon him, but he as quickly conquered it, and returned the man’s cold stare with an anger he could not account for, but which made the stranger avert his eyes.  Then the man got into the boat beside the boatman, and the two again towed away the corpse.  The head rose and fell with the swell, as if nodding a farewell.  But it was still defiant, under its shapeless mask, that even wore a smile, as if triumphant in its hideous secret.

II

The opinion of the cynical bystander on the wharf proved to be a correct one.  The coroner’s jury brought in the usual verdict of “Found drowned,” which was followed by the usual newspaper comment upon the insecurity of the wharves and the inadequate protection of the police.

Randolph Trent read it with conflicting emotions.  The possibility he had conceived of the corpse being that of his benefactor was dismissed when he had seen its face, although he was sometimes tortured with doubt, and a wonder if he might not have learned more by attending the inquest.  And there was still the suggestion that the mysterious disappearance might have been accomplished by violence like this.  He was satisfied that if he had attempted publicly to identify the corpse as his missing friend he would have laid himself open to suspicion with a story he could hardly corroborate.

He had once thought of confiding his doubts to Mr. Revelstoke, the bank president, but he had a dread of that gentleman’s curt conclusions and remembered his injunction to “hang on to his trust.”  Since his installation, Mr. Revelstoke had merely acknowledged his presence by a good-humored nod now and then, although Randolph had an instinctive feeling that he was perfectly informed as to his progress.  It was wiser for Randolph to confine himself strictly to his duty and keep his own counsel.