The After House

"The murderer is still on the ship," I protested. "And just now

the deck is--hardly a place for women. Wait until this afternoon,

Miss Lee. By that time I shall have arranged for a guard for you.

Although God knows, with every man under suspicion, where we will

find any to trust."

"You will arrange a guard!"

"The men have asked me to take charge."

"But--I don't understand. The first mate--"

"--is a prisoner of the crew."

"They accuse him!"

"They have to accuse some one. There's a sort of hysteria among

the men, and they've fixed on Singleton. They won't hurt him, I'll

see to that,--and it makes for order."

She considered for a moment. I had time then to see the havoc the

night had wrought in her. She was pale, with deep hollows around

her eyes. Her hands shook and her mouth drooped wearily. But,

although her face was lined with grief, it was not the passionate

sorrow of a loving girl. She had not loved Vail, I said to myself.

She had not loved Vail! My heart beat faster.

"Will you allow me to leave this room for five minutes?"

"If I may go with you, and if you will come back without protest."

"You are arbitrary!" she said resentfully. "I only wish to speak

to Mr. Turner."

"Then--if I may wait at the door."

"I shall not go, under those conditions."

"Miss Lee," I said desperately, "surely you must realize the state

of affairs. We must trust no one--no one. Every shadowy corner,

every closed door, may hold death in its most terrible form."

"You are right, of course. Will you wait outside? I can dress and

be ready in five minutes."

I went into the main cabin, now bright with the morning sun, which

streamed down the forward companionway. The door to Vail's room

across was open, and Williams, working in nervous haste, was putting

it in order. Walking up and down, his shrewd eyes keenly alert,

Charlie Jones was on guard, revolver in hand. He came over to me at

once.

"Turner is moving, in there," he said, jerking his thumb toward the

forward cabin. "What are you going to do? Let a drunken sot like

that give us orders, and bang us with a belaying pin when we don't

please him?"

"He is the owner. But one thing we can do, Jones. We can keep him

from more liquor. Williams!"

He came out, more dead than alive.

"Williams," I said sternly, "I give you an hour to get rid of every

ounce of liquor on the Ella. Remember, not a bottle is to be saved."

"But Mistah Turner--"

"I'll answer to Mr. Turner. Get it overboard before he gets around.

And, Williams!"