They went below, and found nearly all the tables full. Pat went to his own table, and Ronald sat sadly down by the side of Ventin's empty chair. He was not there very long when he heard a rustle, and on turning round saw that Miss Cotoner was sitting beside him. Yes, sitting in the dead man's chair, so with a sudden impulse Ronald arose. "I beg your pardon," he said, bowing; "but would you mind taking my chair instead of that one?" "Why?" asked the young lady coldly. "Because--because," he stammered, confusedly, "it was Mr.--Mr. Ventin's, the gentleman who died." "Oh!" she said, and turned rather pale, "thank you"--rising--"I will accept your offer," and she sat in Monteith's chair while he took poor Ventin's. Of course this little incident was observed by all, and by none more so than Matteo Vassalla, who sat at a distant table, and looked remarkably savage. "Wait a little," he muttered; "when you are mine, I'll tame you." Pat, indicating Ronald and Miss Cotoner to Kate Lester, hummed the first line of his favourite song, "I love a lubly gal I do." "What do you think?" he asked. Miss Lester laughed and nodded. "I think the same as you," she answered. CHAPTER V. A DAY AT "GIB." THE inquest on the body of Lionel Ventin was resumed next day, but nothing new was discovered, and taking into consideration the strange story told by the deceased to Monteith, the time of the committal of the crime, which, according to the Doctor's showing, must have taken place when the ship was leaving Valletta, there appeared no doubt but that the murder had been committed before the steamer left Malta. As the deceased's real name was not Ventin, and all the evidence was purely circumstantial, the jury brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder against a person unknown." The evidence was taken down so as to be handed to the authorities in Gibraltar, entries were made in the log-book about the affair, and poor Lionel Ventin's body was committed to the deep. There is something inexpressibly sorrowful and solemn in a burial at sea. The body, wrapped in a sail, with iron shot at its feet, was placed on the lower deck near the open bulwarks, and was covered with the Union Jack. A number of the passengers were present, leaning from the upper deck, but many of the ladies, among whom was Mrs. Pellypop, were reading the service for the dead to themselves in the saloon. The captain, surrounded by his officers, read the service over the deceased, and at a signal the body was pushed over the side, slipping from under the Union Jack, and fell with a dull splash into the sea. Then everyone dispersed, the engines, which had been slowed down during the burial, resumed their usual speed, and life on board went on as usual. There was a gloom, however, over all the ship, for it was not an ordinary death, and it was not until the "Neptune" reached Gibraltar that the passengers began to recover their usual gaiety.