After dinner I went on to the stoep to breathe the fresh air and smoke and think; I hoped that the others, remarking the state of my mind, would leave me alone; they did so; the colonel, the Dutch gentleman, and two others, who arrived after dinner, drinking coffee at a table at the other end of the verandah. Their conversation flowed in a low hum, but that it concerned the topic we talked over at dinner I knew by the occasional looks one or another directed my way.
At last the Dutch gentleman, Mr. Pollak, came from his party and, pulling a chair to my side, seated himself. He said, speaking with an excellent English accent:
'I have thought as I saw the body you would wish me to describe it. It was not to be spoken of at table.'
'The photographs were ghastly pictures,' said I.
'Ach, Gott!' he cried, with such a roll of his eyes under the lids as made them balls of porcelain. 'But how should anyone—the handsomest—appear who was five weeks in spirits after having been drowned and lifted out of the sea? And still her hair was long and fair, and fine, and there was a shadow of beauty in the mask of her face—all saw it. It breathed like a perfume from a dead flower.'
'She was not Miss Otway,' said I.
He described every feature, and I continued to shake my head.
'No, no,' said I, 'she is not Miss Otway. The girl I want is in that ship on the ice; yet—is she there?'
'Well, it must be found out,' said he.