That was her story, and it did not tell us much that we needed to know. She showed me her right arm, which was badly bruised and discolored at the shoulder.
“What do you mean by a white figure?”
“It looked white: it seemed to shine.”
“When I went to call you, Mrs. Sloane, the door to your room was closed.”
“I saw it closed!” she said positively. “I had forgotten that, but now I remember. The axe fell beside me, and I tried to scream, but I could not. I saw the door closed, very slowly and without a sound. Then I fainted.”
The thing was quite possible. Owing to the small size of the cabin, and to the fact that it must accommodate two bunks, the door opened out into the chart-room. Probably the woman had fainted before I broke the lock of my door and fell into the main cabin. But a white figure!
“Karen exclaimed,” Miss Lee said slowly, “that some one was sitting on the companion steps?”
“Yes, miss.”
“And she thought that it was Mr. Turner?”
“Yes.” The stewardess looked quickly at Mrs. Turner, and averted her eyes. “It may have been all talk, miss, about his—about his bothering her. She was a great one to fancy that men were following her about.”