“That was the finish, natural enough when one comes to review things again. He kept very much to himself on board, rather avoided me and others, we thought; but we put that down to illness. He had a deck cabin, and seldom appeared unless the sea was rough. Then he would find a sheltered place and gaze at the waves for hours. Yet, whenever I spoke to him, he was quite civil, a trifle reserved, perhaps, but as sane as I am myself. Like everybody else, he seemed to brighten up when we entered the Mersey. He was standing on the promenade deck, near the saloon hatch, within a yard of me, and, like the rest of us, looking at the shipping in the docks. Suddenly he let out a screech like a wild Indian. He made me jump, I can assure you. He was a swarthy-skinned chap, but his color was green when I turned towards him. He seemed to be gazing at something in the water, and so far as I could understand his words, gurgled deep in his throat, he thought he saw a shark.” “A shark!” “Yes. It was all utter rot, of course. I was so taken aback that I could only stare at him. Several ladies screamed, they were so frightened; but Constantine put his hand inside the left breast of his waistcoat, whipped out a dagger, and began to stab savagely at the air. I was certain he had gone mad, until, a few minutes later, a steward told me he had practically lived on champagne all the way from New York. Like other men in the neighborhood, I was thinking seriously of grappling with him from behind, when he gave another yell and bounded across the top of the companionway to the starboard side. That is the Birkenhead side of the ship, you know, and the deck there was almost deserted. He knocked three people down who were in his way, and began to climb the rail. I made after him, but just missed him, though my hand touched his heel. He struck the water, vanished, and just then the ship swung round towards the landing-stage.” “So the screw caught him when he rose,” I blurted out involuntarily. “Ah! you heard of that? I never saw him again, but his bedroom steward said that when the tug’s dingey picked him up he was still living, though a propeller blade had taken a leg clean off.” “Do you mean to say--” “Oh, he died while they were lifting him out of the water. Strange thing he should have had that notion about the shark and then lose a leg, wasn’t it?” I managed to find words to thank my informant, whose name and address I obtained, though I was so agitated that he expressed his regret if he had harrowed my feelings with his recital. Luckily, he was discovered by a Liverpool merchant whom he knew, and we parted with a promise to meet in London.