“It was the act of a woman, Stratton,” said Brettison with an apologetic smile, “but I am only a weak old man, and never weaker than in those moments.

“I could not have been there a moment, and I must have glided down, or you would have heard me. I came to and for a moment could not understand why I was there. Then all came back with overwhelming force, and I crept back to the panel to look through.

“You were returning from the door, and the next moment were standing by the body, with the pistol in your hand, apparently unharmed; and then, to my horror, it seemed as if you were about to use the weapon upon yourself; but to my intense relief I saw you thrust it into your pocket, and then stand by the body as if bereft of sense, utterly helpless as to what course to pursue. While sharing your misery I forgot my intentions of seeking help; and, nerving myself for the encounter, I was about to come round, but your looks chained me to the spot, and, utterly helpless now, I stayed there watching your wild, countenance and reading its meaning, as with an eager, hunted look you went to the outer door, opened it, and stood looking down. Then carefully closing both, you went to the window to peer out furtively from the side of the blind, as if to make out whether by any possibility anyone could have overlooked the scene.

“I knew that you had some plan in mind by your actions, and it rapidly dawned on me what it was, as, like one suffering from nightmare I stood watching, with the cold sweat gathering on my face, as I saw you go toward the other side of the fireplace, come into sight again and take a chair in the same direction.

“I soon divined, though, that it was to hold open the door, and now came the horror of the scene.”

Stratton uttered a low groan as he sat there with his face buried in his hands, and Brettison went on:

“It was all clear to me now. You were seeking for a way out of your terrible dilemma by concealing the body, and I looked on, speechless with horror, as I saw you stoop to seize the arms, droop forward, and fall across the chest.”

“I was faint from my hurt,” said Stratton, almost in a whisper.

“But you rose directly, and I saw you drag the body toward the door of your bathroom and, as if drawn there to know the rest, I came back here and stood listening by that loose panel, where the scene stood out as vividly before me as if I were in the same room.”

Stratton groaned, while, excited by his narration, Brettison went on:

“You were evidently faint still, and weak, for I heard you stop again and again, only to resume the dreadful task of dragging the body along the floor, till at last you stood within a few feet of me, and I could hear your laboured breathing for a few minutes, followed by a sound that I knew to be the throwing back of the bath lid; and then followed what you know—that horrible struggle with a weight with which you were not fit to cope. A minute later the lid was closed and you shut and locked the bath-closet door, while I sat down, faint and exhausted, to try and think out what I should do.

“I must have sat there for a long time, for I was roused by the sound of voices in your room, and heard the scene that took place with the admiral. I knew that you fainted, and that Guest tried the door which you had locked; and I shuddered as I thought of what that place contained, and how easily the discovery might follow.

“By this time I had made up my mind how to act; and, after stealing out to get the necessary tools, I waited my time and set to work. It was a long task, for I had to work and not make a sound; but the old fastening soon gave way, and I drew the door open and stood shivering in the narrow place, with yours and Guest’s words coming plainly to me.

“At times you were angry, at other times Guest spoke loudly, and twice over he had the outer door open to talk to people on the landing.

“Those were my opportunities, and, helped by strength I did not think I possessed, I worked on, dragging the body out inch by inch, and lowering him down. A dozen times over I felt that I must be heard, but you were both too intent upon yourselves, and your words often rose to a quarrel on one side, and, as I said, at such times I worked, till at last I bore the man through the door and laid him there.”

He pointed to the heavy rug in front of the fireplace, and, as if fascinated, Stratton gazed at the spot.

“The rest of the task was lighter for the moment; I had but to close the door, and secure it slightly. I left the proper fastening up till a future time, and I’ll tell you that now—the fastening up took place at the time when you were working shudderingly in the dark, taking in cans of spirit, and pouring them gurgling and echoing into the bath; and I heard all this, and the final screwing down of the lid and screwing up of your door. I tell you I heard it all, boy, and still worked on in your service.”

“In my service?” said Stratton blankly.

“Yes. Why did I do all this? Did I not know that, in spite of all your scheming and precautions, sooner or later the discovery must be made. Was I to let you live on with that horror waiting always at your elbow, driving you mad with dread, as I felt it was bound to do? It was for your sake, boy, that I fought as I did, and brought your victim out here.”

“But tell me—what did you mean to do?”

“How can I, when my own ideas were all vague and strange, as I sat there that night with this,”—he tapped his water-pipe—“and tried to hit on some plan; and somehow the horror passed away, and I felt no fear of the poor wretch lying there before me. I wondered at myself—that I could sit there so calmly smoking, in the face of all that had passed; but I did, for I said to myself, ‘What is death, after all, but sleep?’

“So I sat and thought, much as a man would under the............