The captain, in the mean time, had been watching Singleton.  He had forbidden his entering the after house; if he caught him disobeying he meant to, put him in irons.  He was without shoes or coat, and he sat waiting on the after companion steps for developments.

It was the captain, probably, whom Karen Hansen mistook for Turner.  Later he went back to the forward companionway, either on his way back to his cabin, or still with an eye to Singleton’s movements.

To the captain there must have appeared this grisly figure in flowing white, smeared with blood and armed with an axe.  The sheet was worn over Jones’s head—­a long, narrow slit serving him to see through, and two other slits freeing his arms.  The captain was a brave man, but the apparition, gleaming in the almost complete darkness, had been on him before he could do more than throw up his hands.

Jones had not finished.  He went back to the chart-room and possibly even went on deck and took a look at the wheel.  Then he went down again and killed the Hansen woman.

He was exceedingly cunning.  He flung the axe into the room, and was up and at the wheel again, all within a few seconds.  To tear off and fold up the sheet, to hide it under near-by cordage, to strike the ship’s bell and light his pipe—­all this was a matter of two or three minutes.  I had only time to look at Vail.  When I got up to the wheel, Jones was smoking quietly.

I believe he tried to get Singleton later, and failed.  But he continued his devotions on the forward deck, visible when clad in his robe, invisible when he took it off.  It was Jones, of course, who attacked Burns and secured the key to the captain’s cabin; Jones who threw the axe overboard after hearing the crew tell that on its handle were finger-prints to identify the murderer; Jones who, while on guard in the after house below, had pushed the key to the storeroom under Turner’s door; Jones who hung the marlinespike over the side, waiting perhaps for another chance at Singleton; Jones, in his devotional attire, who had frightened the crew into hysteria, and who, discovered by Mrs. Johns in the captain’s cabin, had rushed by her, and out, with the axe.  It is noticeable that he made no attempt to attack her.  He killed only in obedience to his signal, and he had had no signal.

Perhaps the most curious thing, after the murderer was known, was the story of the people in the after house.  It was months before I got that in full.  The belief among the women was that Turner, maddened by drink and unreasoning jealousy, had killed Vail, and then, running amuck or discovered by the other victims, had killed them.  This was borne out by Turner’s condition.  His hands and parts of his clothing were blood-stained.