‘I haven’t thought about that,’ answered the passenger, almost in a whisper. ‘Let me tell some human being my secret, and it will at least be off my mind. I feel as if the secret would choke me if I kept it any longer. I cannot die with murder on my soul.’
‘Murder!’ exclaimed the clergyman, starting back; then, recovering himself, he added, ‘Speak on; but I warn you that whatever you tell me, should we, by the Lord’s will, be saved, I will keep as no secret. Neither shall you deny it. Write.’
The clergyman drew out his pocket-book, and handed it, with a pencil, to the passenger.
The latter hesitated.
Presently, with a supreme effort, he wrote:—
‘On board the Bon Espoir.
‘The ship is sinking rapidly. I, Gurth Egerton, believing that I am about to die, do solemnly declare that on the night of the 15th of September, 18—, I stabbed my cousin, Ralph Egerton, in a gambling-house, kept by a man named Heckett, and that the wound proved fatal. I freely make this confession, and may God forgive me.
‘Signed, Gurth Egerton.’
The clergyman took the book from him and read it. Then he wrote something beneath it.
The confession once made, a swift revulsion of feeling came over Gurth Egerton. He reached out his hand, as though he would have snatched it back.