But the figure in the water remained still. For a moment I thought it was the figure of a man already dead. Then I realized sickeningly that he was poising himself with steely resolve for his next and final move. I had never before seen such a deliberate, calm attempt at suicide. Slowly the hands rose out of the water. Slowly the torso moved forward, circling, and then in a flash the figure had dived from view. I heard Mrs. Breese sob back of me, and as I turned helplessly, her face was not pleasant to see. Her daughter swung at her and her eyes were red with fury. Then before I was quite aware of it, someone brushed me out of the way. Suddenly I realized that the florid and portly Rice was now in the water and swimming with long even strokes to the spot where I had last seen the boy. I saw Rice dive. I saw him reappear without his burden. I saw him dive again. And then quite close to him the figure of the boy rose to the murky blue surface. But the boy again vanished. Then Rice, too, disappeared, but this time when he emerged one arm held securely a kicking figure. I saw Rice bend over and deliberately punch the boy until his body was still. Then I remember the sailors dragging the two upon the deck. Mrs. Breese fell sobbing upon her son. CHAPTER III THE ACTOR ACTS A definite change was apparent in the very feel of that yacht after the events of the morning. Henry Breese had been helped to the cabin by Rice and his mother. I waited for them to reappear but when the scowling Japanese announced lunch, there was no sign of them, nor of my other fellow-passengers. I deliberately wandered through the decks, the music-room, even the corridors, hoping that I would meet someone who could shed light on the boy’s crazy adventure. I even tried to pump the crew. But each man fell unaccountably silent, and I could see that orders had been given to stem gossip. At lunch only Guy Thomas appeared, and he was morose and sullen. The steward plied us with the choicest foods, from caviar and hors d’oeuvres and fresh turtle soup to an over-rich dessert, and he ate steadily on, without a word. I realized that this lunch was designed to celebrate his engagement, and I felt very much of a vulture as I glanced at the empty chairs. Finally, because I could not stand the silence any longer, I said to Thomas: “Perhaps this isn’t the pleasantest subject of the moment, but have you any idea of what happened this morning?” He was just about to light a cigarette, but held his lighter suspended. His eyes set obstinately. “I’ve got an idea, all right,” he muttered. Then he peered at me suspiciously, as if debating whether he could trust me or not. “I’ve got more than an idea!” The verdict seemed favorable. “Rice put him up to that.” “Put him up to what?” I asked puzzled. “That suicide rot. They framed it between them!” “Do you mean to say that the boy deliberately jumped in and waited for Rice to drag him out? But why?”