Darrow's eyebrows went up. Before Slade had time to note that there was no response to his outstretched hand, the surgeon had jumped in and pushed him roughly back upon his pillow.
"What did you promise?" he growled. "You were to lie still, weren't you? And you'll do it, or out we go."
"How are you, Eagen?" drawled Darrow.
"Not Eagen. I'm done with that. They've told you, haven't they?"
Darrow nodded. "Are you the only survivor?" he inquired.
"Except yourself."
"The Nigger? Pulz? Thrackles? The captain? All drowned?"
"Not the captain. They murdered him."
"Ah," said Darrow softly. "And you--I beg your pardon--your--er--friends disposed of the doctor in the same way?"
"Handy Solomon," replied Slade with shaking lips. "Hell's got that fiend, if there's a hell for human fiends. They threw the doctor's body in the surf."