Edwards, who had completed the arrangements with the undertaker for the care of the body as soon as the coroner released it, seemed completely unnerved.

“Jermyn,” he said to the doctor, as he turned away and hid his eyes, “I can’t stand this.  The undertaker wants some stuff from the—­er—­boat,” his voice broke over the name which had been hers.  “Will you get it for me?  I’m going up to a hotel here, and I’ll wait for you there.  But I can’t go out to the boat—­yet.”

“I think Mr. Waldon will be glad to take you out in his tender,” suggested Kennedy.  “Besides, I feel that I’d like a little fresh air as a bracer, too, after such a shock.”

“What were those little cuts?” I asked as Waldon and Dr. Jermyn preceded us through the crowd outside to the pier.

“Some one,” he answered in a low tone, “has severed the pneumogastric nerves.”

“The pneumogastric nerves?” I repeated.

“Yes, the vagus or wandering nerve, the so-called tenth cranial nerve.  Unlike the other cranial nerves, which are concerned with the special senses or distributed to the skin and muscles of the head and neck, the vagus, as its name implies, strays downward into the chest and abdomen supplying branches to the throat, lungs, heart and stomach and forms an important connecting link between the brain and the sympathetic nervous system.”

We had reached the pier, and a nod from Kennedy discouraged further conversation on the subject.

A few minutes later we had reached the Lucie and gone up over her side.  Kennedy waited until Jermyn had disappeared into the room of Mrs. Edwards to get what the undertaker had desired.  A moment and he had passed quietly into Dr. Jermyn’s own room, followed by me.  Several quick glances about told him what not to waste time over, and at last his eye fell on a little portable case of medicines and surgical instruments.  He opened it quickly and took out a bottle of golden yellow liquid.

Kennedy smelled it, then quickly painted some on the back of his hand.  It dried quickly, like an artificial skin.  He had found a bottle of skin varnish in Dr. Jermyn’s own medicine chest!

We hurried back to the deck, and a few minutes later the doctor appeared with a large package.

“Did you ever hear of coating the skin by a substance which is impervious to water, smooth and elastic?” asked Kennedy quietly as Waldon’s tender sped along back to Seaville.

“Why—­er, yes,” he said frankly, raising his eyes and looking at Craig in surprise.  “There have been a dozen or more such substances.  The best is one which I use, made of pyroxylin, the soluble cotton of commerce, dissolved in amyl acetate and acetone with some other substances that make it perfectly sterile.  Why do you ask?”

“Because some one has used a little bit of it to cover a few slight cuts on the back of the neck of Mrs. Edwards.”

“Indeed?” he said simply, in a tone of mild surprise.