“He didn’t jump.”

“No?”

“He fell.”

“Poor fellow, poor fellow!” The words came in the softest, sweetest tones of pity.  “I suppose there is no mistake about his melancholy end?”

“I saw him fall.  He just let go and fell; it’s Bible oath, Captain—­ it’s Bible oath.  That’s how it happened; he just—­let go—­and fell.  I saw it with my very eyes, and—­Captain, it was your knife.”  To this effect John, with great difficulty and a nervous shifting stare that wandered from the Captain to me until it finally rested somewhere out at sea.

The Captain gave a sharp keen glance, smiled softly, set his thin lips together as though whistling inaudibly, and turned to me.

“So you know John, my boy?  He’s a good fellow, is John; just the sort of quiet, steady, Christian man to make a good companion for the young.  No swearing, drinking, or vice about John Railton; and so truthful, too—­the very soul of truth!  Couldn’t tell a lie for all the riches of the Indies.  Ah, you are in luck to have such a friend!  It’s not often a good companion is such good company.”

I looked helplessly at the model of truth to see how he took this tribute; but his eyes were still fixed in that eternal stare at the sea.

“And so, John, you saw him fall?  ‘Who saw him die?’—­’I,’ said the soul of truth, ’with my little eye’—­and you have very sharp eyes, John.  However, the poor fellow’s gone; ‘fell off,’ you say?  I don’t wonder you feel it so; but, John, with all our sympathy for the unfortunate dead, don’t you think this is a good opportunity for reading the Will?  We three, you know, may possibly never meet again, and I am sure our young friend—­what name did you say?  Jasper?—­I am sure that our young friend Mr. Jasper would like the melancholy satisfaction of hearing the Will.”

The man’s eyes were devilish.  John, as he faced about and caught their gaze, looked round like a wild beast at bay.

“Will?  What do you mean?  I don’t know—­I haven’t got no Will.”

“None of your own, John, none of your own; but maybe you might know something of the last Will and Testament of—­shall we say—­another party?  Think, John; don’t hurry, think a bit.”

“Lord, strike me—­”

“Hush, John, hush!  Think of our young friend Mr. Jasper.  Besides, you know, you were such a friend of the deceased—­such a real friend—­and knew all his secrets so thoroughly, John, that I am sure if you only consider quietly, you must remember; you who watched his last moments, who saw him—­’fall,’ did you say?”

No answer.

“Come, come, John; I’m sorry to press you, but really our young friend and I must insist on an answer.  For consider, John, if you refuse to join in our conversation, we shall have to go—­reluctantly, of course, but still we shall have to go—­and talk somewhere else.  Just think how very awkward that would be.”