you mean," said the voice, and
a fair-haired young man in a gray uniform, a short, thick golden
moustache on his lip, came up suddenly out of the gloom into the
radiance of the candles and began to stride to and fro. The interruption
was trivial, yet it gave the key to the young man's character,
courageous, cultured, precise, and impatient of inferior minds.

"His fall," explained Mr. Marsh politely. "The point is, I believe he
was alive almost up to the moment, you know, of our entry. He even moved
slightly as I stepped in--a sort of last gasp. I even heard something of
that nature. A sigh. Good evening, gentlemen."

The last words were addressed to Mr. Spokesly and his friend in the
Public Debt, who crossed the path of the young man striding up and down
and were introduced to the company.

"You can corroborate what I say," said Mr. Marsh. "You know I mentioned
it at the time--a sort of sigh?"

"What is a sigh, or a moment, for that matter, more or less?" demanded
the young man striding up and down. "To me there is something much more
important in his motive. Why did this captain of yours end himself? This
is a question important to science. I am a student of Lombroso and Molle
and the Englishman Ellis. Was this man epileptic? Did he have delusions
of grandeur?"

"This gentleman," said Mr. Marsh, "was the officer on deck at the time,"
and he looked at Mr. Spokesly anxiously, as though waiting fresh details
of the affair.

"Yes, he had delusions," said Mr. Spokesly, clearing his throat.
"Thought everybody was against him. He took drugs too. My own idea is he
took the wrong stuff or too much of it, in his excitement. He was down
there in his room when we crashed. And he had another--delusion I
suppose you could call it. He didn't like women."

"Didn't like.... Well, who does?" challenged the vigorous metallic voice
with a carefully modified yet resonant laugh. One or two laughs, equally
modified, floated from obscure corners where cigar-ends glowed, and the
animated figure paused in its rapid movement. "I mean, no man likes
women as they are unless he is a true sensualist. What we aspire to is
the ideal they represent. Your captain must have been a sensualist."

"Because his last breath was a sigh, you mean?" said Mr. Marsh. "I heard
it you know. A long-drawn gasp."

"Precisely. The sigh of a sensualist leaving the world of the senses."

Mr. Spokesly stared at Mr. Marsh incredulously.

"I don't think you ar