“Good work! Did he say anything of a man’s being killed on board!” The girl’s face became grave at once. “No,” she said. “How was he killed? Who was it?” “A sailor named Petersen. He was stabbed, and came ashore dead.” “The man has two enormous knives in sheaths fastened to his belt,” she said, turning white. “He uses them in his performances.” Haynes and Colton looked at each other. “If he did it, he wasn’t responsible,” Helga went on impetuously. “He’s such a pitiful creature—just like a dog, with his great eyes. I feel as if we had saved a baby. And he is terrified like a baby.” “At some phantom of the darkness?” The girl nodded. “Something that he hasn’t even seen. He thinks it came down from the upper air after him as the ship was going to pieces. While the others were being taken off in the breeches-buoy he was crawling down the main ratlines to escape from this thing. Finally his fears drove him overboard.” “Just as well for him,” said Colton. “If he had stayed he would have been killed in the wreckage with the mate and captain.” “Dr. Colton thinks the man is insane,” said Haynes. “What is your view, Princess?” “I think so too. But I think some strange thing has terrified him. Perhaps one of the sails tore loose and blew on him. Or it may have been the lightning.” “That might be it, and in his panic he may have struck out and killed Petersen by accident. But in that case, why should the other sailors, who must have seen it, shield him? I guess the best thing is to put it to him straight, concluded Haynes. Followed by Colton, he went into the room where the suspect lay. “See here!” began Haynes abruptly. “We want to know why you killed Petersen the sailor.” The stranger’s dark eyes widened. He stared at his questioner with dropped jaw. “Yes; why you killed him—with this.” Haynes touched the hilt of one of the knives that protruded from the man’s belt. “No, no!” protested the man. “I not got nothing against Petersen. I not know Petersen.” “You were on board when he left?” “Yes; I see zem go—one—two—three—so many—seven. Not me; I haf to stay. No one care to safe ze wonderful Whalley.” “Did you see anyone fight with Petersen or strike him?” asked Colton. “No; see nothing.” After fifteen minutes of fruitless cross-questioning the investigators called in the negro, Hawkins. “Him kill Petersen?” repeated Hawkins. “No—sir—ee, boss! He wasn’t nowheyah nigh when Petersen went off, safe an’ wavin’ his hand goodbye.” “Someone killed him,” said Haynes. “This man, yourself, Corliss and the captain and mate were the only ones aboard.” “That’s right, boss. Corliss and the Old Man and I stood right by and saw him off. No, sir, if he wa’n’t killed by the lightnin’ or on the cliff, somethin’ got him on the way in.” “You think he may have met his death after he landed, then?”