The fresh color swept into her cheeks.
"That is the only explanation possible, I am sure. See how the skirt is stained, and the lace ruffle is almost torn off."
"Oh, well, don't worry; the Lieutenant has lost his natty appearance also. Some villain slashed his coat its full length. However, I accept your offer."
She ministered to me with womanly gentleness, parting the matted hair, and cleansing the wound with water. While in no way serious it was an ugly bruise, and required considerable attention. Sitting there on a stool while she worked, I could hear Louis bustling about in the cabin, but my mind was busy with a thousand matters requiring settlement. At last I refused to be ministered to any longer, laughing at her desire to bandage my head, and insisting that all I needed now was breakfast. As we entered the cabin, the Lieutenant stood in Henley's door.
"I was looking for you, Craig," he said, coming forward, and bowing to my companion. "Here is a newspaper clipping which may be of interest. I found it on the deck."
I read it hastily, and, in silence handed it to her, watching her face as she read. It was a local item describing the finding of a dead body which could not be identified. The details of the man's appearance as well as the clothes worn were carefully depicted, evidently in hope someone might thus recognize the party. She remained with the bit of paper in her hands for what seemed a long while, while we waited. Then her eyes were slowly lifted to our faces.
"That was Philip Henley," she said soberly.
"You are sure?"
"There is no possibility of mistake; the description is almost photographic and the clothing I remember well."
"Your husband, madam?" asked the Lieutenant, as I remained silent.