As Hammer had not revealed the cause of his visit to the forecastle, it was decided to call in each man on board the ship, from stewards to stokers, and see if the weapon would be recognized.
"It's a cinch that the murderer is on the ship," declared Hammer confidently. "If that knife belongs to any of the men it'll probably be recognized."
"By the way," exclaimed Harcourt, "we ought to have Solomon up here. I believe that chap has some brains, and he can help us out with the Arabs. Can you handle their bally talk at all, Hammer?"
"Fairly well, but not for rapid-fire work. Yes, better have John come up, and then start in with the men. I'd better get the articles and see that we get hold of every man aboard, hadn't I?"
The captain nodded, and Hammer went below. He went first to his own cabin, where he dug to the bottom of a ditty-bag full of soiled linen and fished out an old-style revolver of small size but heavy calibre.
"Not that I want to shoot her any," he grinned to himself, "but she feels comforting with murderers aboard! Guess I'd have to have a man within a yard of me to hit him with this mule of a gun, anyhow."
Visiting Harcourt's cabin, he procured the ship's papers, sent Roberts to ask John Solomon to step to the chart-house and to follow himself, and returned. At anyrate, he thought grimly, this cruise bade fair to beat cattle-boats as far as excitement was concerned.
He found the others as he had left them, Harcourt smoking and Krausz staring glumly at the knife, which lay on the table before them. A moment later the supercargo arrived, puffing after his climb, and at Harcourt's invitation dropped into the fourth deck-chair.
"Do you know that knife, Mr. Solomon?"
"Why, cap'n, I can't say that I do—no, sir; I never laid eyes on it afore, not as I knows of. I—why, dang it! There's blood——"