"
"I do not believe you!"
"I am sorry," I said shortly. "As a matter of fact, Burns has that."
By the look of triumph in her eyes I knew I had told her what she
wanted to know. She went below soon after, and I warned Burns that
he would probably be approached in the same way.
"Not that I am afraid," I added. "But keep the little Sloane woman
at a distance. She's quite capable of mesmerizing you with her
eyes and robbing you with her hands at the same time."
"I'd rather you'd carry it," he said, "although I'm not afraid of
the lady. It's not likely, after--"
He did not finish, but he glanced aft toward the jollyboat. Poor
Burns! I believe he had really cared for the Danish girl. Perhaps
I was foolish, but I refused to take the key from him; I felt sure
he could be trusted.
The murders had been committed on the early morning of Wednesday,
the 12th. It was on the following Tuesday that Mrs. Sloane and I
had our little conversation on deck, and on Wednesday we came up
with the Buenos Aires.
It was on Friday, therefore, two days after the cargo steamer had
slid over the edge of the ocean, and left us, motionless, a painted
ship upon a painted sea, that the incident happened that completed
the demoralization of the crew.
For almost a week the lookouts had reported "All's well" in response
to the striking of the ship's bell.
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