Amid the deep muttered expressions of rage and commiseration made by his companions, Morley, pale and trembling, tapped at her cabin door, and, opening it a little way, whispered that Mr. Basset was asleep, and must not be disturbed.
"Must not," she repeated with alarm; "is papa ill?"
"Oh, no; but——"
"But what?"
"Only in a deep sleep," he replied, with a sigh of bitterness, as he closed the door, fearing to excite her alarm further.
"Is this fatal outrage completed?—is the poor gentleman quite dead?" asked Captain Phillips, in a low and impressive voice.
"I fear so, I fear so," replied Heriot, with growing agitation; "I can detect no sign whatever of life, and even warmth is passing away."
"But remember, doctor," said Morrison, earnestly and anxiously, "that the time of—of strangulation was short, and death by being run up to the yardarm is not so instantaneous as by the drop from a regular scaffold ashore."
"Of course, Morrison, I know that; but——" the doctor paused, and shook his head sadly.
"Horrible difference!" thought Morley, with a shudder of mingled rage and grief, while he clenched his teeth and hands.