"Hear it?"

"Yes. What the devil is it?"

"It's the lascars," said Bell. "They have been behaving in a most
unusual manner ever since the mysterious Mr. Azraeel joined us. I
may be wrong in associating the two things, but I shan't be sorry
to see the last of our mysterious passengers."

The next happening on board the Mandalay which I have to record was
the attempt to break open the door of Professor Deeping's stateroom.
Except when he was actually within, the Professor left his room door
religiously locked.

He made light of the affair, but later took me aside and told me a
curious story of an apparition which had appeared to him.

"It was a crescent of light," he said, "and it glittered through
the darkness there to the left as I lay in my berth."

"A reflection from something on the deck?"

Deeping smiled, uneasily.

"Possibly," he replied; "but it was very sharply defined. Like
the blade of a scimitar," he added.

I stared at him, my curiosity keenly aroused. "Does any explanation
suggest itself to you?" I said.

"Well," he confessed, "I have a theory, I will admit; but it is
rather going back to the Middle Ages. You see, I have lived in the
East a lot; perhaps I have assimilated some of their superstitions."

He was oddly reticent, as ever. I felt convinced that he was
keeping something back. I could not stifle the impression that the
clue to these mysteries lay somewhere around the invisible
Mohammedan party.

"Do you know," said Bell to me, one morning, "this trip's giving me
the creeps. I believe the damned ship's haunted! Three bells in the
middle watch last night, I'll swear I saw some black animal crawling
along the deck, in the direction of the forward companion-way."

"Cat?" I suggested.

"Nothing like it," said Mr. Bell. "Mr. Cavanagh, it was some
uncanny thing! I'm afraid I can't explain quite what I mean, but
it was something I wanted to shoot!"

"Where did it go?"

The chief officer shrugged his shoulders. "Just vanished," he said.
"I hope I don't see it again."

At Tilbury the Mohammedan party went ashore in a body. Among them
were veiled women. They contrived so to surround a central figure
that I entirely failed to get a glimpse of the mysterious Mr.
Azraeel. Ahmadeen was standing close by the companion-way, and I
had a momentary impression that one of the women slipped something
into his hand. Certainly, he started; and his dusky face seemed to
pale.

The