The host remarked that he was pleased to do a kindness to anybody, but especially to sailors, and then he slid out of the room.  Shortlegs watched him downstairs, then closed the door.  When he looked round his second officer was half undressed.  He whispered to him not to undress, and that if he knew as much about bugs as he did he would need no telling.

“Oh! d——­ the bugs and everything else.  I’m in for a good nap.”

“Well,” said Shortlegs, “you may do as you like, but I’m a-going to keep my clothes on.”

Jim, however, did not heed his companion’s advice; he undressed, jumped into bed, and was soon asleep.  Shortlegs sat smoking his pipe for a while, then rose and commenced a survey of the room.  He looked under the bed, into a cupboard, behind the curtains, and then sat down and pondered over their strange experience.  At last he pulled his boots and coat off, and was preparing to get into bed, when it occurred to him that he had not examined the wardrobe; so he jumped up, opened the door, stood gazing at the inside, closed the door, went to the bed, shook his mate into consciousness, and speaking in a loud whisper, he said—­

“Jim, for God’s sake get up!”

“What for?” said Jim.

“Because there’s a dead ’un in the wardrobe,” replied Shortlegs.

“A what?” asked Mr. Leigh.

“A corpse,” responded his companion.

“Go on, don’t talk such rot!”

“Very well, look for yourself,” said the boatswain, who again opened the door, and exposed the dead body to view.  James Leigh turned pallid and almost inarticulate.  He could only touch his friend on the shoulder, and utter—­

“My God, where are we?  What shall we do with the corpse?”

Visions of being had up for murder had seized him.  But he was quickly pulled up by his more discreet shipmate, who told him to cease speaking, allow the dead ’un to remain where he was, keep their boots off, open the window quietly, see how far it was to drop or to lower themselves down with the bedclothes.  This being done, they found the plan of escape impracticable without being “nabbed,” so they took the bold resolve of going out as they had come in, with their boots on.  Before they had got half-way down the stairs they heard suppressed conversation.  It was evident they were detected.

“Use your knuckle-duster, Jim, if necessary, and charge them with murder,” whispered Shortlegs.

“You leave that to me, Shorty; I’m going to get out of this.”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the room door, which was ajar, opened, and the man who showed them upstairs stood before them.  He was in his sleeping clothes.  They requested him to open the outer door and let them out, as they did not desire to remain any longer in the house.  He asked why they were leaving comfortable lodgings on such a night.  Jim being the spokesman, said they didn’t like sleeping with corpses, and raising his voice with nervous courage, declared that if the door was not immediately opened he would stand a good chance of being put in the wardrobe where the other poor devil was.  The wretched bully, shivering with passion and sudden fear, made a grab at Jim, and in an instant he was lying on the floor, and the two sailors opened the door and stepped out into the cold fog.