Still fully alive to that ever-growing strain, which, of course, was caused by the opposing influence Hooper and I were establishing, he strove to keep his faculties within bounds. He shut his spiritual eyes, guarded his ears against the far-off sounds which might have troubled them, and endeavored to take a passive interest in the other people in the restaurant. Notwithstanding his marvelous self-control, he was restless. He wished Hooper would return and put an end to the suspense by his agreeable rattle. He strove to eat some of the tempting _hors d’œuvres_ set before him, but, like any sick child, he fancied he could touch nothing except the dish he had ordered, and it seemed to be unreasonably long in the cooking. Then he looked at his watch, Constantine’s gift, and, after noting the hour, 8.40 P.M., he idly read the inscription inside the gold cover. By a queer trick of memory, his mind went back to the starlit sky and the black waters of the Bay of Bengal. He heard again the plash of the oars, saw the Armenian clinging to the buoy and plunging frantically, and renewed his childish awe at the long rows of shining lights in the ship’s hull and the way in which her huge, dark bulk towered above the tiny boat when the sailors pulled alongside. Then the black mass seemed to topple over on to him, there was a blaze of vivid light, and Karl lost consciousness. What had happened was this. Steindal, vengeful as an infuriated ape, entered the restaurant just as Karl opened his watch. His dark eyes contracted and darted a lambent glare at the stalwart figure seated, as it transpired, at the very table where the Jew had indulged in his antics a few nights earlier. There came to him the maddening knowledge that many of those present exchanged nods, and winks, and inaudible asides, the moment he appeared. It may be that some subtle influence, some weakened inductive current, leaped out at him without Karl being either responsible for or aware of its action. The exact motive will never be known, but its result was lamentably evident. Steindal snatched a full bottle of champagne from the ice-pail in which it rested beside a neighboring table, and dealt Karl a murderous blow with it on the back of the head. Maggie, who actually saw and heard what took place, gave a far clearer account of it than the horrified witnesses in the restaurant.