With the same instinctive feeling that he must be silent, Ravenslee approached the boy and touched him on the shoulder. Spike started and glanced up, though without lifting his head.
"Your sister is anxious about you. Why are you here?"
"Don't you know, Geoff? Ain't no one told ye?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'll show ye!"
The boy took a hurricane lamp from the floor beside him, and, having lighted it, brought Ravenslee further into that littered corner where, among the boxes and bundles and other oddments, lay what seemed to be two or three oars covered with a worn tarpaulin.
"Look, Geoff—you remember—only this morning!" Very gently he raised a corner of the tarpaulin and as he looked down, Ravenslee's breath caught suddenly.
A woman's face, very young and very placid-seeming! The long, dark hair framing the waxen features still oozed drops of water like great, slow-falling tears; and beholding this pale, still face, Ravenslee knew why he had shivered and hushed voice and step, and instinctively he bowed his uncovered head.
"You remember Maggie Finlay, Geoff, this morning, on the stairs? She—she kissed me good-by, said she was goin' away; this is what she meant—the river, Geoff! She's drowned herself, Geoff! Oh, my God!" and letting fall the tarpaulin, Spike was shaken suddenly by fierce hysterical sobbing; whereat the man, looking up from his writing, spoke harsh-voiced.
"Aw, quit it, Kid, quit it! Here I've just wrote down three rings, and she's only got one, an' that a cheap fake. Shut up, Kid, you'll make me drop blots next! Cut it out, it ain't as if she was your sister—" Hereupon Spike started and lifted a twitching face.