The Sybarite was lying at anchor a mile or so offshore. As we approached her we saw that she was a 150-foot, long, low-lying craft of the new type, fitted with gas-engines, and built quite as much for comfort as for speed. She was an elaborately built craft, with all the latest conveniences, having a main saloon, dining-room, library, and many state-rooms, all artistically decorated. In fact, it must have cost a small fortune merely to run the yacht.
As we boarded it Shelby led the way to the sheltered deck aft, and we sat down for a moment to become acquainted.
“Mito,” he called to a Japanese servant, “take the gentlemen’s hats. And bring us cigars.”
The servant obeyed silently. Evidently Shelby spared nothing that made for comfort.
“First of all,” began Craig, “I want to see the state-room where Marshall Maddox slept.”
Shelby arose, apparently willingly enough, and led the way to the lower berth deck. Hastings carefully examined the seal which he had left on the door and, finding it intact, broke it and unlocked the door for us.
It was a bedroom rather than a state-room. The walls were paneled in wood and the port-hole was finished inside to look like a window. It was toward this port-hole that Kennedy first directed his attention, opening it and peering out at the water below.
“Quite large enough for a man to get through—or throw a body through,” he commented, turning to me.
I looked out also. “It’s a long way to the water,” I remarked, thinking perhaps he meant that a boat might have nosed up alongside and some one have entered that way.
“Still, if one had a good-sized cruiser, one might reach it by standing on the roof of the cabin,” he observed. “At any rate, there’d be difficulty in disposing of a body that way.”