I was too busy with my own thoughts to pay any more attention to the matter for the present, and I went on board the _Arrow_ and turned in, thinking that he would be there when I awoke in the morning. When I turned out he was not there, and a short time afterward I heard the news that Mr. Anderson was dead. He had been found sitting at his desk in the office. The gas was turned on in the room and the doors and windows closed. When the janitor opened the place for business in the morning, he had been almost suffocated. As soon as he recovered sufficiently he called for help, and he and several others entered the room and dragged the unfortunate young man into the hall. They found that he had been dead for several hours. That was all. I’ve never heard anything more definite about the matter. But I was satisfied that my friend Brown was cleared. Alice Waters and myself were married the next day. As luck was with us, that very day the old clipper _Morning Light_ came in, and, after a good deal of fuss and bother, I made a deal to get transferred to her. Williams, her skipper, was a friend of mine, and he backed me in the effort to exchange to the point of resigning altogether. He owned enough shares in the vessel to finally settle the matter, and this gave me a couple of weeks longer on the beach and Williams a chance to go to China, which was what he wanted. Brown suddenly changed his mind about sailing with us, and had his things put ashore. He never came near the _Morning Light_ until just as the tug took our towline. Then we suddenly found that Garnett--as usual when about to start off soundings--had disappeared during the bustle of clearing to take a nip at a neighbouring gin-mill. O’Toole, in a fighting temper, started after him. The big Irishman soon had him half-way down the dock before the old mate realized his undignified position. Then he lashed out and struck O’Toole a powerful blow, and the prospect became interesting. A crowd gathered, and this attracted the attention of a policeman, who forced his way to where the mates were struggling. With the help of a few bystanders he parted them, and then, seizing Garnett by the coat, he started to drag him off to the lockup, when Brown appeared on the scene, pointing to me and saying something to the officer which checked him long enough for me to make a landing on the dock. “Who is he?” asked the policeman, as I made my way toward them. “Windjammer from the shade o’ night, that’s what I am,” panted the old mate, thickly. “I mean his business?” snapped the officer.