Gilbert could not repress the smile that came to his lips.
"Hush, good my cousin!" said he. "Thou hast taken overmuch of this strong wine, methinks, and thy tongue doth say things which thy heart cannot mean."
"HE MADE A LUNGE AT GILBERT, AIMING A BLOW AT HIS HEART."
"What?" cried Philip. And whipping his dagger from his belt he made a lunge at Gilbert, aiming a blow at his heart.
Gilbert drew aside and avoided the blow, and Philip's head struck with a resounding knock against the bulkhead. The pain enraged him, and swearing a great Spanish oath he renewed the attack, rushing at his cousin with wild fury. This time his foot slipped on the slimy, wine-flooded floor. He fell with a heavy thud; his weapon hand was under him, and the dagger, which he had held sword-wise, with the point upward, buried the full length of its blade in his chest.
Gilbert turned to the door and opened it. As he looked round at Philip he saw a stream of blood issuing from under him. Philip tried to rise, but rolled over on his back. Only the handle of his dagger could be seen. Gilbert bent down to withdraw it, but it was tightly wedged between the ribs.
"The Saints protect me!" groaned Philip. "I am done for!"
"Much do I fear that thou art indeed. God forgive thee," said Gilbert, and quitting the store-room he returned to the deck to summon Timothy. It was at this moment that Timothy had seen the answering signal from the Pilgrim. He went below with Gilbert and when they entered the store-room they found that Philip Oglander was dead.