“Gin!”

“Eh, the boatswain wants a drink! Gin!”

Khorre drinks it with dignity, amid laughter and shouts of approval. Suddenly all the noise dies down and a sombre silence reigns—a woman’s strange voice drowns the noise—so strange and unfamiliar, as if it were not Mariet’s voice at all, but another voice speaking with her lips:

“Haggart! You have pardoned him, Haggart?”

Some of the people look at the body; those standing near it step aside. Haggart asks, surprised:

“Whose voice is that? Is that yours, Mariet? How strange! I did not recognise your voice.”

“You have pardoned him, Haggart?”

“You have heard—the rope broke—”

“Tell me, did you pardon the murderer? I want to hear your voice, Haggart.”

A threatening voice is heard from among the crowd: