Who else? I asked myself. Mabel? She could have run forward by the lee alley after I had gone down by the other; but why? She had no motive for the crime, and if she had why would she have chosen such a moment, when discovery was inevitable? Then, too, it required strength beyond hers to drive a sheath knife to the handle into the body of a man. No, Mabel was also out of the question; but there came to my mind the equally disquieting query, What was she doing on the main deck, or in the alley near the mate's room, at that time of night? This I could not answer; but at daylight it was answered for me.
Captain Merwin opened the door of my room, and I rolled out of my berth. "Mr. Rogers," he said, "I owe you an apology. You did not kill the mate. She has recovered and explained."
"Who did, sir?" I asked.
"One of the twin stowaways, she does not know which. I have ironed them both in the 'tween deck; but they accuse each other."
"Brotherly love with a vengeance!" I commented. "But I cannot see how either could have done it."
"My daughter saw one of them at the window. Here she is."
Mabel, her glorious hair disheveled, her face pale and drawn, her eyes tear stained, pushed into the room, and incontinently fell into my arms, her own around my neck.
"Oh, it's over!" she said brokenly. "It's over at last—and the strain, and the worry! I could not have stood it much longer! I knew last night that I couldn't; but you wouldn't let me speak!"
"Mabel, Mabel!" said her father. "Steady yourself, my girl!"
"Papa, go away!" she said. "I want to talk with Mr. Rogers, and you could not understand—you haven't understood, at all."