Old Bridget was gone to bed; and unless the sailor chose to occupy the straw pallet already in the possession of a guest whose mysterious arrival seemed to be the forerunner of nothing but confusion and disaster, there did not seem any chance of obtaining a berth save by remaining in his present situation.  I told him of the dilemma, but Kate replied:—­“We can just take the body fro’ the bed; it winna tak’ harm upo’ the chest i’ the fur nook.  The captain will not maybe sleep the waur for quiet company.”

He did not seem to relish the idea of passing the night even with so quiet a companion; but as it seemed the least disagreeable alternative, we agreed to pilot him to the chamber and help the miserable pallet to change occupants.  The corpse we agreed to lay on some clean litter used for the bedding of the cattle.  We conducted the stranger to his dormitory, which was formerly a hay loft, until converted into an occasional sleeping-room for the humble applicants who sometimes craved a night’s lodging at the Sandy Holm.

The only entrance was by a crazy ladder, and so steep, that I was afraid our feeble companion would find considerable difficulty in climbing to his chamber.  It was my intention to have prevented him from getting a sight of the ghastly object that occupied his couch; but pressing foremost, he ran up the ladder with surprising agility, gaining the top ere I had made preparations for the ascent.  I mounted cautiously, giving him the light whilst I made good my landing; and he went directly to the bed.  I had set my foot on the floor, and was lending a hand to Kate, who had still to contend with the difficulties of the way, when I heard a dismal and most appalling shriek.  Starting round, I beheld the stranger gazing on the couch, his eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets, and his countenance distorted with horror and amazement.  I ran to him as the light dropped from his grasp; catching it ere it fell, I perceived his eyes rivetted on the livid and terrific features of the corpse.  My limbs grew stiff with horror; thoughts of strange import crowded on my mind; I knew not how to shape them into any definite form, but stood trembling and appalled before the dark chaos whence they sprung.  Scarcely knowing what I said, still I remember the first inquiry that burst from my lips—­“Knowest thou that murdered man?”

The words were scarcely uttered when the conscience-stricken wretch exclaimed, in accents which I shall never forget, “Know him!—­yesterday he stood at my helm.  I had long borne him an evil grudge, and I brooded on revenge.  The devil prompted it—­he was at my elbow.  It was dark, and the fiend’s eyes flashed when I aimed the blow.  It descended with a heavy crash, and the body rolled overboard.  He spoke not, save once; it was when his hated carcase rose to the surface.  I heard a faint moan; it rang on my ear like the knell of death; the voice rushed past—­a low sepulchral shout; in my ear it echoed with the cry of ‘MURDER!’”