"Then," continued the captain, "I wish you would search for Pym." And, knowing Ferrar was thoroughly trustworthy, he whispered a few confidential words of Sir Dace Fontaine's fear and trouble. "I am going to look for him myself," added Jack, "though I'm sure I don't know in what quarter. If you do come across him, keep him within view. You can tell him also that his place on the _Rose of Delhi_ is filled up, and he must take his things out of her." * * * * * Altogether that had been a somewhat momentous day for Mr. Alfred Saxby--and its events for him were not over yet. He had been appointed to a good ship, and the ship had made a false start, and was back again. An uncle and aunt of his lived at Clapham, and he thought he could not do better than go down there and regale them with the news: we all naturally burn to impart marvels to the world, you know. However, when he reached his relatives' residence, he found they were out; and not long after nine o'clock he was back at Mrs. Richenough's. "Is Mr. Pym in?" he asked of the landlady; who came forward rubbing her eyes as though she were sleepy, and gave him his candle. "Oh, he have been in some little time, sir. And a fine row he's been having with his skipper," added Mrs. Richenough, who sometimes came off the high ropes of politeness when she had disposed of her supper beer. "A row, has he!" returned Saxby. "Does not like to have been superseded," he added to himself. "I must say Pym was a fool to-day--to go and drink, as he did, and to sauce the master." "Screeching out at one another like mad, they've been," pursued Mrs. Richenough. "He do talk stern, that skipper, for a young man and a good-looking one." "Is the captain in there now?" "For all I know. I did think I heard the door shut, but it might have been my fancy. Good-night, sir. Pleasant dreams." Leaving the candle in Saxby's hands, she returned to her kitchen, which was built out at the back. He halted at the parlour-door to listen. No voices were to be heard then; no sounds. "Pym may have gone to bed--I dare say his head aches," thought Saxby: and he opened the door to see whether the parlour was empty. Why! what was it?--what was the matter? The young man took one startled look around and then put down the candle, his heart leaping into his mouth. The lamp on the table threw its bright light on the little room. Some scuffle appeared to have taken place in it. A chair was overturned; the ivory ornament with its glass shade had been swept from its stand to the floor: and by its side lay Edward Pym--dead. Mr. Alfred Saxby, third mate of that good ship, the _Rose of Delhi_, might be a sufficiently self-possessed individual when encountering sudden surprises at sea; but he certainly did not show himself to be so on shore. When the state of affairs had sufficiently impressed itself on his startled senses, he burst out of the room in mortal terror, shouting out "murder."