Then there was but one
to suspect--Silva Sanchez! I stood there dumb, gazing at the dead
man, realizing all this dimly, yet conscious only of thankfulness that
the victim had not been Dorothy Fairfax.

"He's dead, sir," growled Watkins, turning the fellow over with his
foot, until the ghastly face stared up at the deck beams overhead.
"Stabbed to the heart frum behind. Look a yere--that wus sum slash.
Who, the hell do yer suppose did it?"

"That is ours to find out. The deed has just been done, for blood is
still flowing. Let him alone Watkins and come with me--the murderer
can't be far off."

I flung open the pantry door, but one glance inside told me that
Gunsaules had vanished. On the deck lay the strands of rope with which
he had been secured---they had been severed by a sharp knife, the ends
discolored with blood stains. I held these out to Watkins.

"Cut since the murder," I said harshly, "and by the same knife."

"Who was in here, sir."

"The steward, Gunsaules. He didn't do the job, but I believe I know
who did. We'll try the port stateroom aft. Stand by; there's likely to
be two of them."

The door was unlocked and opened noiselessly, but I took no chances,
thinking this possibly a ruse. Gloomy as the interior appeared in the
weird light with banks of fog driving against the ports, a single
swift glance convinced me it was deserted. There was no place for a
man to hide, yet I could not convince myself of its emptiness until I
peered into the disarranged bunk, and surveyed every shadowed corner.
Watkins watched me curiously, turning his head occasionally to stare
out into the lighted cabin behind. The situation baffled me
completely--that Sanchez had done the deed, informed by the steward of
what was occurring on board and rendered desperate by that report, was
clear enough in my mind; but what had become of the man? He could not
have escaped overboard, as the ports were screwed down, and his
appearance on the open deck above would have surely been observed. His
place of concealment must remain aft in the cabin, and if so, he must
be discovered by immediate search. I ordered Watkins to take the
lantern from the rack and follow me from stateroom to stateroom. We
began with Dorothy's, finding none of them locked until we came to
where Manuel was held prisoner. All were empty and in disorder, while
bending my ear to the locked door, I could distinguish the heavy
breathing of its inmate, the fellow was evi