A little after three that morning he opened the door of the Professor's state-room very gently and looked in. The room was dark, and he listened. A soft, just audible sound of breathing came from the bed. It was the breathing of a man fast asleep. He pressed the spring of his electric lamp, and turned the thin ray on to the water-bottle in the rack over the wash-stand. It was half-empty, and a glass stood on the table in the middle of the room. Then the ray fell on the face of the sleeping man. It was as Prince Zastrow's face had been the last night he went to sleep in the Castle of Trelitz--rather the face of a corpse than that of a living man. His captain stood behind him, and he turned and whispered: "He is ready. Are the men below?" "All, Highness, save Grovno at the wheel and Hartog on the look-out. They will see nothing, as they did before," came the whispered reply. "Very well, then. You and I can manage this between us. You have the line?" The captain nodded, and they went into the room, softly closing the door. In a few minutes they came out again, carrying between them a long bundle of blankets lashed from end to end with thin line. They took it aft along the alloway and out on to the lower deck by the stern. Two iron doors of a port used for coaling stood open on the starboard side. On the deck lay a couple of pigs of iron lashed together. These the captain made fast to one end of the bundle and lifted them towards the port. Oscarovitch took hold of the other end. They lifted it. The weights dropped outside the port, and the bundle followed them. The captain started up, clasped his hands to his forehead, and said in a gasping whisper: "Holy God, Highness, what have we done?" "What do you mean, Derevskin? You have obeyed my orders; that is all. Is it not enough for you?" "Yes, Highness--but who or what was that man? Was he really a man?" "Are you mad, Derevskin?" "No, Highness, I hope not: but did you hear--or, rather, did you not hear?" "What, you fool?" "He--it--the body--it made no splash when it touched the water!" The stammered words struck Oscarovitch like so many puffs of frozen air. No, the body of Franklin Marmion _had_ made no splash. It had vanished through the port into silence. That was all. He beat back his own terror with the exertion of all his will-power, and said in a sneering whisper: "Derevskin, you are either mad or drunk; but I will forgive you this time because you have obeyed. Go to bed, and don't forget to be either sober or sane when I come on deck." The captain bowed his head, and went forward with shambling steps and shaking limbs. Oscarovitch closed the port with hands which all his force could not keep steady, and betook himself to bed, to lie awake for the rest of the short summer night wondering vainly what really had happened. He had had his bath and dressed soon after six, and went on deck. The captain was on the bridge, and he joined him. "Good morning, Derevskin!"