Meeker came back and closed the bulkhead door behind him, adjusting his glasses and picking up the newspaper as he took his seat.

“My dear sirs,” he resumed, “I want to read this little article to you and then I’ll explain it more fully to you.  I am sure that you will find it of interest, Mr. Trenholm, as a literary man and a member of the press, even if in no other way, and you, my dear Captain Riggs, will be interested because it concerns the sea, and you may have some knowledge of the facts.  When I was in Aden four—­no, five years ago it was—­I met a most remarkable gentleman.  Most remarkable!  He told me a story that was passing strange, and—­”

He was interrupted by the bulkhead door flying open violently and Rajah, with his hands thrown up and terror in his eyes, ran toward Captain Riggs, making frantic efforts to frame words with his lips.

“Sally Ann!” cried Riggs in alarm, jumping up.  “What the devil has happened to give the boy such a turn!  He’s nigh out of his wits!”

Rajah pointed to the open door, but we could not see into the passage beyond the triangle of light thrown out from the gimbal-lamps in the saloon.  The boy ran toward the door and pointed again, and then drew back in fear, drawing his kris and raising it in a position of defence.

Captain Riggs ran to the door and I followed him, with my hand on my pistol, Meeker crowding against my shoulders.  In the dim light oozing into the passage we made out an indistinct figure.

“What in Sally Ann’s name is this?” shouted Riggs, darting out and seizing the object, which he pulled toward the light.

It was the body of Mr. Trego, stabbed to the heart, the sailor’s sheath-knife which had killed him still in his fatal wound.

“What the blue blazes does this mean?” demanded Captain Riggs, turning to us as if we could explain the tragedy.  “What in the name of Sally Ann has happened here?  Tell me that?”

“Can that be our friend, Mr. Trego, who was with us but a minute ago?” asked Meeker, aghast as he gazed at the waxen features of the dead man.

“It’s Mr. Trego right enough,” shouted Riggs.  “It’s Trego and no doubt of that!  Well, I’m blowed!”

“Who could have done such an awful thing?” whispered Meeker, staring at me with wide-open eyes.  “Who could have done this?”

“Don’t ask me!” Captain Riggs bawled at him.  “Don’t ask me!”

“He’s quite dead,” said Meeker, leaning forward again.  “In the midst of life we are in death.”

He held his hands over the dead man and said a prayer.

CHAPTER VI

THE RED-HEADED MAN MAKES AN ACCUSATION

“That’s all very pious and according to Hoyle,” said Captain Riggs, breaking into wrath as Meeker finished his prayer over the body of Trego.  “But I’d have you know, sir, that the Kut Sang is no bally chapel, and I don’t take murder aboard me as a regular custom, and let it go at that.  Somebody will have to answer for this at the end of a rope, or my name’s not Riggs.  Hereafter when there’s praying to be done I’ll order it.”