ts now, for he must be
very careful what he did. And he had little time--had not Henry Bliss
said that in half an hour he would return with Myrna?

He ran back into the bedroom, tore off his coat, vest and shirt; and,
catching up his toilet-case, hurried into the bathroom. Here, he
clipped off his beard and shaved it close--then quickly, a sort of
tense, keyed-up excitement constantly growing upon him, he returned
once more to the bedroom, and, stripping off the remainder of his
clothes, began to put on the fisherman's suit. How heavy and stiff the
boots felt upon his feet, how rough and coarse the socks were against
his skin--and yet how their familiarity thrilled him! He swung his
arms, wondering and laughing at the free play of his muscles in the
loose shirt, and memories and thoughts began to press upon him--but he
checked them almost instantly, for there was no time now for that.

He finished dressing hastily. He must leave no clue behind him that
would occasion even a suspicion that he had not carried out the purpose
that the world, and essentially those on board the ship, must be made
to believe was the last act of Jean Laparde. Amongst a thousand,
amongst the conglomerate races that cluttered the ship's steerage,
where even amongst themselves few knew each other, where difference in
language precluded all but the most scattered and superficial
acquaintanceship, none would recognise Jean Laparde in the rough-garbed
fisherman--provided always that no search was instituted, provided
always that there should be no _incentive_ in the mind of any one to
search, provided always that it was accepted as a fact--that Jean
Laparde was dead! He could not hope perhaps, between now and the time
they reached New York, or, at least, on landing, to escape the
attention of the ship's officers or the shore officials; but with Jean
Laparde a suicide in the mist and fog of that Atlantic night, he would
be no more to them than one as rough and ignorant and poor as those
others in the steerage--no more than a stowaway.

Jean dropped down on his knees again beside the trunk, and began to
replace the articles he had been obliged to remove in order to get at
the fisherman's suit. Nothing--not a sign of anything approaching
disorder must appear. They would look through everything--Myrna and
her father! He shrugged his shoulders whimsically. The visit of Henry
Bliss to the cabin, the other's knowledge of the quarrel with Myrna