"Yes," said Mr. Spokesly, "I can believe you felt strange. But how was anybody to know?" "And you still think it was an accident?" said his companion curiously. "Yes, it was an accident," replied Mr. Spokesly steadily. "H--m! Well, you knew him." "I don't believe he had the pluck to do such a thing," went on Mr. Spokesly. "He hadn't the pluck of a louse, as we say. And you must remember he was all dressed for going ashore. He had all his money on him, all his papers. He very likely had his hat on. But for some reason or other, before he could do anything and speak to anybody, he had to take some sort of pill. Small, square white tablets. I've known him keep out of the way, go over the other side of the bridge and turn his back before speaking to me. I could see his hand go to his mouth as he came along the deck. I don't know for sure. Nobody will know for sure. But I know what I think myself." "Yes? Some private trouble? That's the usual reason, isn't it?" "He had a grudge against everybody. Thought everybody was against him. They were, but that was because he hadn't the sense to get on with them." "Perhaps it was a woman," suggested his companion hopefully. "Him! A woman? Do you think a woman would have anything to do with him?" Mr. Spokesly's tone as he put this question was warm. It was a true reflection of his present state of mind. "My husband," Evanthia had said, and it was as her husband he had stepped ashore. And he was conscious of a glow of pride whenever he compared other men with himself. She was his. As for the captain, the very idea was grotesque. He stirred in his chair, moved his arm on the balustrade. He did not want to talk about the captain. The words, "Perhaps it was a woman," did not, he felt, apply exactly to any one save himself. He heard his companion reply doubtfully, as though there could be any doubt: "Oh--well, you know, one has heard of such cases. Still, as you say, the circumstantial evidence is strong. Those tablets of his were all over the place, I remember." "He had the medicine-chest in his room," said Mr. Spokesly. "Yes. The Doctor showed me where he'd been mixing the stuff in a cup. And there was a mould for making them. So you think he had no intention of...." "No intention of taking anything fatal himself," was the reply. "Ah! Indeed! That opens up a very interesting departure," said the other. "Not now," said Mr. Spokesly. "Not now." "You'll excuse my own curiosity," said his friend, "but when I found him, you know, eh?" "If he had found you," Mr. Spokesly remarked, looking towards the mountains to the eastward, "he would never have taken the trouble to mention it to a soul except officially. I didn't know him very well, but I should say he is better off where he is. I shall have to be getting along."