"I just came in, Mr. Hammer. I can prove it by Dr. Krausz; I've been with him until just now——"
Hammer leaned over and touched Schlak. The second mate was dead, and had been dead for some time, since the body was set fast in the rigor mortis. For a moment he looked down, frowning, then swept the cabin with his gaze.
Evidently here had been a struggle, and a desperate one. A chair was broken and overturned, clothes and papers were strewn about the floor, and the clenched fists of the body showed that death had not found Hans Schlak unawares.
In one hand Hammer saw a fragment of paper, and after a moment's work got it away intact; it was a torn corner of a letter, probably, for a few words in German could be made out written in pencil.
Contrary to his own will and even against his first supposition, the American was forced to the conclusion that the cringing secretary was innocent. True, he had the man standing over the body, but Schlak had been dead for an hour at least—in all probability he had returned from the dining-saloon to find his fate awaiting him.
Therefore, someone must have been in his room during his absence at mess. Who? Not Jenson, for Jenson had been at the table with them; and Hammer mentally accounted for every member of the officers' mess that evening, except John Solomon.
An instant later he remembered that he himself had sent the supercargo off to make up some accounts which Harcourt desired to see, and that Solomon had returned a few moments after Schlak had left the table.
Therefore, it would seem that the pudgy supercargo was cleared; and at the thought of the little man killing the viking Hans Schlak, Hammer smiled grimly.
"So you didn't do it, eh?" he said sternly, thinking to make the secretary cringe for a moment. Hammer had a thorough dislike and contempt for the man, and made no secret of it. "I find you standing over this body, and you claim innocence! Do you think that will stand when you get up before the German Consul at Mombasa?"
For a moment Jenson broke out anew with his frenzied babbling, weaving his hands in and out, his face ghastly with terror; then he caught the American's contemptuous smile and shivered into silence. Hammer was satisfied, but he was to pay dearly for that short moment of play with Adolf Jenson's nerves.