“Well, I fastened my boat to the yacht and got aboard. There wasn’t a sound. The cabin door was open, and I went in. The hanging lamp was burning. I looked round, and there I saw Templeton lying on the floor—face downwards. At first I thought he was asleep, or drunk. Then I stooped down. Ah, my God—it’s haunted me ever since!” He leaned forward for a moment and covered his face with his hands. Then he went on. “There was a pool of blood on the floor; he was dead.” “Yes—and then?” asked the superintendent. “I—I—thought I should have fainted. I sat down on one of the bunks for a minute. Then the horror of the thing took hold of me. If I were discovered—what would be the position? It flashed across me instantly—that dark night—no one else about—I saw it all. They would think _I_ did it. “I got out of that cabin in a panic and into my boat. I don’t know how I managed to get across—it seemed hours—and I pulled till my arms ached with pain. As soon as I reached my house I ran upstairs and told my wife what had happened. She was as frightened as myself—she saw the danger. We neither of us got a wink of sleep that night. We kept talking it over, and at last we both agreed that the wisest thing to do would be to get away very early in the morning—we hoped before the discovery was made.” “The worst thing you could have done,” interposed Colson. “It naturally drew suspicion upon you at once. We knew Templeton had been with you in the afternoon, and one of the first things we did was to try to get hold of you—and found you’d bolted.” “I know—I know,” said Moss. “I’ve been in terror ever since. I’ve sat in this office, trying to do business, and expecting every moment to see the police come in—it’s been agony.” “What you ought to have done,” said the superintendent, “was to give the alarm—at Marsh Quay—directly you discovered the body.” “Yes—yes—but even suppose I had—wouldn’t you have suspected me? I don’t know. I don’t know.” The superintendent did not answer. He was thinking what _he_ would have done, if he had been a nervous, cowardly man in a like predicament. And he had to agree, mentally, that the Jew had acted according to his natural temperament. “That’s the whole truth, so help me God!” said Moss earnestly, “and I’m glad I’ve told you now; it’s a blessed relief. I couldn’t have gone on much longer. What are you going to do with me?” he asked, throwing out his hands in appealing gesture. The superintendent did not reply for a moment. He was considering. Then Colson whispered something to him, and he nodded. “Sergeant Colson wants to ask you a question—before we decide anything.” “Yes?” said the Jew.