“Good morning, Signor Bruno!”
The effect of this friendly greeting upon the benevolent old gentleman was peculiar. He grasped the rail before him with both hands, and stared at the young Englishman. Then he stamped upon the deck with a sudden access of fury.
“Ah!” he exclaimed fiercely, while a tiger-like gleam shone out from beneath his smooth white brows. “Ah! it is you!”
Christian swung his legs idly, and smiled with some amusement across the little strip of water.
Suddenly the old man plunged his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. He appeared to be tugging wildly at some article which was caught in the lining of his clothes, when a remarkable change came over his face. A dull red colour flew to his cheeks, and his eyes gleamed ruddily, as if shot with blood. Then without a word he fell forward with his breast against the painted rail, remained there a second, and as the two ships passed away from each other, rolled over upon his back on the clean deck, grasping a pistol in his right hand.
Christian Vellacott sat still upon the rail, swinging one leg, and smiling reflectively. He saw the old man fall and the other passengers crowd round him, but the Agnes and Mary had now caught the breeze and was moving rapidly out to sea, where the sunlight danced upon the water in little golden bars.
“Apperlexy!” said a voice in the journalist's ear. He turned and found Captain Lebrun standing at his side looking after the steamer. “Apperlexy!”
“Do you think so?” asked Christian.
“I do,” was the reply, given with some conviction. “I seen a man fall just like that; he was a broad-built man wi' a thick neck, and in a moment of excitement he fell just like that, and died a'most at once. Apperlexy they said it was.”
“It seemed to come over him very suddenly, did it not?” said Christian absently.