“My God, what an experience!” said Shorty.  “What a lucky thing I looked in the wardrobe.  We might have been given up to the police as the murderers; and that lady, as we thought, what a demon she must be to be connected with such.”

“My dear fellow,” said the second mate, “don’t say anything wrong against the lady.  How do we know but she is a prisoner, or in some way beholden to the rascal.  What a strange thing she never appeared.  I wonder if she was there.  She must have been, as we heard voices.”

“That’s right enough,” said the boatswain; “but was it her voice?”

“I never thought of that, Shorty.  What d’ye say if we go back and try and learn more about this mysterious affair?”

“Not me,” said Shorty; “I’ve had enough of this kind of experience.”

“But,” remonstrated the officer, “suppose the lady is in captivity?”

“Never mind that, boss.  I don’t care if there were twenty blessed women in captivity.  I’m not going back, because I thinks the lady is in the swim.”

“Nonsense, Shorts.  She is an educated woman!”

“Yes; and I’ve heard, boss, of educated women doin’ funny things.  How d’ye know but it’s her husband that’s in the wardrobe, gov’nor?  No, no; I knows some of these ’ere ladies, and I’m not a-going to mix myself up with them.  And if you takes my advice you’ll stick to me and get aboard as soon as we can.  And keep this ’ere affair mum, or we may have a visit from some of her Majesty’s detectives.”

“Well,” ejaculated James Leigh, “it is a mystery, and must remain such so far as we are concerned.  But I am tempted to tell the police, as I feel certain that woman cannot be there of her own free will.”

“Woman be d——­d, boss!  How do you know, as I said before, that she’s not at the bottom of it?  You never knew an affair like this that a woman had not her hand in it; and if you are going to give information, don’t introduce your humble servant, who has his own ideas of this ’ere person.”

The young fellows had talked on ever since they left the tomb of the dead, unheeding the direction in which they were going.  When the fog cleared they found themselves amidst the East End slums, environed by all that was villainous.  They were not long in winding their way aboard the Betty Sharp.  The night’s exploits made a deep impression on James Leigh; it caused him to review the Bohemian career he had lived ever since he ran away from the Pacific in Chili.  He resolved to pay a visit to his home in Wales, as he was so near, and in spite of strong protestations on the part of the captain he resigned his post.  There was great rejoicing in the little village when he unexpectedly made his appearance.  The news of the mutiny aboard the Pacific, and the tragic end of the captain, officers, and part of the crew preceded him.  His family had blamed him for leaving at Iquique.  They now said he had been guided by a strange but merciful Providence to his old home.  He told the eager listeners of the family circle many tales of daring adventure as they sat in the cosy room by the fire, but whenever the gruesome figure of the dead man in the wardrobe crossed his mind he became reticent and pensive.  These lapses did not go unnoticed, and he was often pressed for the cause of so sudden a change from mirth to sullen silence.