engine room was being signaled.

He clambered to the port-hole, and in the gray of the early morning he could see they were off Queenstown, and the tender was nearly alongside.

He had no time to lose. What should he do?

Then it occurred to him that, as a measure of precaution,[Pg 50] the man had given his belt to the captain, to be locked up in the ship's strong-room. That was the solution of the mystery, then.

[Pg 50]

He cursed his luck, himself, and the dead man. For absolutely nothing he had run all this risk, and killed a man, and had yet to escape.

It was—from his point of view—perfectly monstrous. If the dead man could have wanted revenge, surely he was having it then.

There was a screech from the tender's siren; she was coming alongside.

He put on his boots, and as he did so there was a sound of rapping at the door. He hurriedly pulled the head curtains of his victim's berth, and, shooting back the bolt, opened the door.

"Any letters or telegrams for shore, sir?"

"Is there time to go ashore?"

"Can if you like, sir; the tender will bring you back. You will get about an hour ashore."

"Very well, I will go, then."

"At once, sir. The tender will leave in less than five minutes."

And the officer went on his round collecting letters and telegrams.

Loide put on his hat, flung the blood stained knife out of the port-hole, turned the button of the electric light, and stepped outside, closing the door after him.[Pg 51]

[Pg 51]

Then he suddenly remembered that the most likely place of all he had overlooked. A sleeping man would place valuables beneath his pillow.

He entered the cabin again, turned the electric light button, and slid his hand under the dead man's pillow—nothing.

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