e 'right,'" he remarked, lighting a fresh
cigarette. "The captain was not that sort of man. He was timid, I admit.
He was scared of losing his life."

"Who isn't?" demanded the young man and was beginning another resonant
laugh when Mr. Spokesly broke in.

"A good many people," he said sharply, "under the right conditions.
Nobody _wants_ to get killed, we know. But that does not mean they
wouldn't take a risk."

"Well, didn't your captain take the risk?" said Mr. Marsh eagerly. "That
was just what...."

"He did but he always wore one of these inflating things," said Mr.
Spokesly quietly. "Vests you blow up when you want them. We had a
collision, as you know, and he had it on then. And when he heard us
crash I've no doubt he began to inflate it again."

"Then there is no use supposing he committed suicide," said a voice.
"That would be absurd."

"Not altogether," replied Mr. Spokesly. "I don't know whether you
gentlemen will think I am a bit mad for saying it, but after knowing
him, it's quite possible he took something to kill himself and then
tried to save himself from being drowned. There's a lot of difference
between being dragged under in a sinking ship, and gradually getting
sleepy and stiff in comfort, and don't you forget it. Humph!"

There was a silence for a moment when he ceased speaking, as though he
had propounded some new and incontrovertible doctrine of philosophy. The
young man who was walking up and down, almost vanishing in the gloom
down near the great smoke-coloured velvet curtains, halted and looked
interrogatively at Mr. Spokesly.

"But you have not explained why he should kill himself at all," he said.
"A man as you say scared of losing his life."

"Well," said Mr. Spokesly slowly. "He may have seen himself.... I mean
he may have realized he had lost his life already, as you might say."

"How, how?" demanded the young man, very much interested. "What do you
mean by already?"

"You might call it that," muttered Mr. Spokesly, "with his ideas about
women. Couldn't bear to talk about them. And he didn't like men much
better. So I say he'd lost his life already. Nothing to live for, if a
man hates women. And he did. That's one thing I am sure about."

"You are a psychologist," said the young man, very much amused. "You
believe in the inspiration of love."

"Naturally," said Mr. Spokesly. "A man believes in what he understands."

The young man nodded and turned away with the slight smile