"He's got to be crippled--or put out of the way," stated Henshaw calmly. "I was a fool. I forgot about Harrigan." "It may be," said McTee, "that he'll be put out of the way tonight." "McTee, I begin to see that you have brains." The latter waved the sinister compliment aside. "Suppose the little--er--experiment fails? Doesn't it occur to you that that message might be written out and sent to Campbell?" The captain changed color, and his eyes shifted. "I've told you--" he began. "Nonsense," said McTee. "I'll write the thing, if you want, and all you'll have to do is to sign it." "Would that make any difference?" asked Henshaw wistfully. "Of course," said McTee. "Here we go. You've got to do something to tame Harrigan, captain, or there'll be the deuce to pay." And as he spoke, he picked up pen and paper and began to write, Henshaw in the meantime walking to the door in an agony of apprehension as if he expected to see the dreaded figure of Sloan appear. McTee wrote: _From Captain Henshaw to Chief Engineer Douglas Campbell Sir: On the receipt of this order, you will at once place Daniel Harrigan at work passing coal, beginning this day with a double shift, and continuing hereafter one shift a day. (Signed)_ "Here you are, captain," he called, and Henshaw turned reluctantly from the door and sat down at the table. "Bad luck's in it," he muttered, "but something has to be done-- something has to be done!" He wrote: "Captain Hensh--" but at this point the voice of Sloan spoke from the open door. "A message, captain." With a choked cry Henshaw whirled and rose, supporting himself against the edge of the table with both trembling hands. His accusing eyes were on McTee. "Sloan!" he called in his hoarse whisper at last, but still his damning gaze held hard upon McTee. The wireless operator advanced a step at a time into the room, placed the written message on the edge of the table, and then sprang back as if in mortal fear. Henshaw, still keeping his glance upon the Scotchman with a terrible earnestness, picked up the sheet of paper on which he had been signing his name, and tore it slowly, methodically, into small strips. As the last of the small fragments fluttered to the floor, his hand went out to the message Sloan had brought and drew it to his side. He waved his arm in a sweeping gesture that commanded the other two from his presence, and they slipped from the cabin without a word. CHAPTER 28 "She's dead?" McTee asked softly when they stood on the promenade outside. "She is. She must have been dying at about the time I brought in that other message--the one you told me to bring." They avoided each other's eyes. Inside the cabin they heard a faint sound like paper crumpled up. Then they caught a moan from the room--a soft sound such as the wind makes when it hums around the corners of a tall building.