out his pocketbook. It was the one crowning
touch required to stamp as a fact, beyond a peradventure of doubt, the
conviction that he had made away with himself. He could ill spare any
of the money; but he could much less afford to ignore anything that
would lend colour to his plan and so minimise the risk of discovery!
He opened the pocketbook again, took from it three of the twenty-franc
notes, tucked these into his pocket, and laid the pocketbook with the
balance of the money inside of it down upon the desk. It was not a
fitting amount, doubtless--but there was his pocketbook and all there
was in it! What more could any one give? He took up his pen, and
finished his note. "Please divide what is in my pocketbook amongst my
stewards. Adieu! Jean."

He folded the note, placed it in an envelope, sealed it, addressed it
to Henry Bliss, and, carrying it with him, returned to the bedroom and
pinned it securely to the sleeve of his ulster. Then, taking up both
the ulster and the bundle he had made of the clothes in which he had
been dressed that evening, and leaving the lights turned on, he went to
the outer cabin door, opened it cautiously, and peered out. Here, on
the upper deck, there was no one in sight. He opened the door wide,
marked the spot where the light, flooding from the room, lay across the
ship's rail; then, stepping out on the deck, he closed the door softly
behind him.

For a moment he stood in the darkness, looking about him, listening.
There was nothing--only the ship-sounds--only the confused voices and
laughter of the passengers on the deck below--only, faint-borne, the
music from the ship's saloon. And then, he crept across the deck to
the rail; and, drawing himself back to give his arm full play, he
hurled the bundle with all his strength far out over the ship's
side--and as he hurled it, in requiem as it were for Jean Laparde,
through the night there crashed, and boomed, and moaned, and whined
anew the sullen blast of the siren.

It startled him momentarily; but the next instant he stooped and laid
the ulster upon the deck beside the rail. It was perhaps fastidious in
a suicide to remove his ulster, but the light from his room, when the
door was opened, that would shine upon the white paper pinned on the
sleeve, would disclose a sufficient motive!

It was done! In all the world now for him there was only one to share
his life--a life whose future course he could not see, nor guess; b