The After House

"You are human, aren't you?" she asked archly. "I am not afraid

of you."

"No one is, I am sure."

"Silly! Why, they are all afraid of you, down there." She jerked

her head toward the after house. "They want to offer you something,

but none of them will do it."

"Offer me something?"

She came a little closer, so that her round shoulder touched mine.

"Why not? You need money, I take it. And that's the one thing they

have--money."

I began to understand her.

"I see," I said slowly. "They want to bribe me."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"That is a nasty word. They might wish to buy--a key or two that

you carry."

"The storeroom key, of course. But what other?"

She looked around--we were alone. A light breeze filled the sails

and flicked the end of a scarf she wore against my face.

"The key to the captain's cabin," she said, very low.

That was what they wished to buy: the incriminating key to the

storeroom, found on Turner's floor, and access to the axe, with

its telltale prints on the handle.

The stewardess saw my face harden, and put her hand on my arm.

"Now I am afraid of you!" she cried: "When you look like that!"

"Mrs. Sloane," I said, "I do not know that you were asked to do

this--I think not. But if you were, say for me what I am willing

to say for myself: I shall tell what I know, and there is not

money enough in the world to prevent my telling it straight. The

right man is going to be punished, and the key to the storeroom

will be given to the police, and to no one else."

"But--the other key?"

"That is not in my keeping."

"I do not believe you!"

"I am sorry," I said shortly. "As a matter of fact, Burns has that."

By the look of triumph in her eyes I knew I had told her what she

wanted to know. She went below soon after, and I warned Burns that

he would probably be approached in the same way.

"Not that I am afraid," I added. "But keep the little Sloane woman

at a distance. She's quite capable of mesmerizing you with her

eyes and robbing you with her hands at the same time."

"I'd rather you'd carry it," he said, "although I'm not afraid of

the lady. It's not likely, after--"

He did not finish, but he glanced aft toward the jollyboat. Poor

Burns! I believe he had really cared for the Danish girl. Perhaps

I was foolish, but I refused to take the key from him; I felt sure

he could be trusted.

The murders had been committed on the early morning of Wednesday,

the 12th. It was on the following Tuesday that Mrs. Sloane and I

had our little conversation on deck, and on Wednesday we came up

with the Buenos Aires.