at he had thereupon gone below to make an effort at
saving the box. It was less probable--though it might still have been
inferred--that his death was the result of some accident in diving,
which had for the moment deprived him of his senses. But a discovery
made by the yacht's crew pointed straight to a conclusion which struck
the men, one and all, with the same horror. When the course of their
search brought them to the cabin, they found the scuttle bolted, and the
door locked on the outside. Had some one closed the cabin, not knowing
he was there? Setting the panic-stricken condition of the crew out of
the question, there was no motive for closing the cabin before leaving
the wreck. But one other conclusion remained. Had some murderous hand
purposely locked the man in, and left him to drown as the water rose
over him?

"Yes. A murderous hand had locked him in, and left him to drown. That
hand was mine."

The Scotchman started up from the table; the doctor shrank from the
bedside. The two looked at the dying wretch, mastered by the same
loathing, chilled by the same dread. He lay there, with his child's
head on his breast; abandoned by the sympathies of man, accursed by the
justice of God--he lay there, in the isolation of Cain, and looked back
at them.

At the moment when the two men rose to their feet, the door leading into
the next room was shaken heavily on the outer side, and a sound like
the sound of a fall, striking dull on their ears, silenced them both.
Standing nearest to the door, the doctor opened it, passed through, and
closed it instantly. Mr. Neal turned his back on the bed, and waited the
event in silence. The sound, which had failed to awaken the child, had
failed also to attract the father's notice. His own words had taken him
far from all that was passing at his deathbed. His helpless body was
back on the wreck, and the ghost of his lifeless hand was turning the
lock of the cabin door.

A bell rang in the next room--eager voices talked; hurried footsteps
moved in it--an interval passed, and the doctor returned. "Was she
listening?" whispered Mr. Neal, in German. "The women are restoring
her," the doctor whispered back. "She has heard it all. In God's name,
what are we to do next?" Before it was possible to reply, Mr. Armadale
spoke. The doctor's return had roused him to a sense of present things.

"Go on," he said, as if nothing had happened.

"I refuse to meddle further with your infamous