Why the word "murder" struck me with such a horror I cannot tell. I stood looking at the old boatman like one struck with dismay. I was on the point of saying that it was quite impossible, for I had been on the Chain Pier last night, and had seen nothing of the kind. Some prudent impulse restrained me. "I would not go so far as to say it was murder," interrupted a sturdy boatman. "I have been about here a great many years, and I have seen some queer things. I should hardly call this murder." "It was a life taken away, whether you call it murder or not," said the old man. "May be; but I am not sure. I have seen many mad with misery, but murder is a rare thing." "What is it?" I asked. "A child, sir--only a little child," said the sturdy boatman. "The body of a little child found drowned off the pier here." Now, why should I start and tremble and grow sick at heart? What had it to do with me? I knew nothing of any murdered child, yet great drops formed on my brow, and my very heart trembled. "A little child found drowned," I repeated; "but how do you know it was murdered? It may have fallen into the water." "It was not old enough for that, sir," said the elder boatman; "it is but a fair little mite--a baby girl; they say not more than three months old." Ah! why did the beautiful, desperate face I had seen the night before flash before my eyes then? The boatman went on: "It is plain to my eyes that it is a murder, although the child is but a tender babe; all the greater murder for that; a bigger child might have helped itself; this one could not." "Tell me about it," I said. Ah! if my heart would but stop beating, or if the beautiful, desperate face would but fade from my memory. "It was James Clayton who found it," continued the old man. "He was at work in the jetty this morning when he caught sight of something moving up and down with the waves. At first he thought it looked like an old rag, and he took no notice of it; then something about it attracted his attention more and more. He went nearer, and found that it was a gray and black shawl, that had caught on some large hooks which had been driven into the wooden pillars for some purpose or other--a woman's shawl, sure as could be; some lady, he thought, had dropped it over the pier, and it had caught on these hooks below the water. Jim was pleased. He thought, if worth anything, he might get a trifle reward for it; if not, he might take it home to his old mother. "He took his boat to the spot, but, sir, to Jim's surprise, he found it was not only a shawl, but a bundle. He thought he had found a treasure, and hastened to get it quickly off the hooks. It had been caught more tightly by accident than it could have been placed there by human hands. It was tight on the hooks, and he had to tear the shawl to get it off. He lost no time opening it, and there was a little, fair child, drowned and dead.