Keppel touched the woman again, placing his hand upon her face. When he withdrew it, I saw that blood was upon it. He looked at it, and shudderingly wiped it off upon his handkerchief.
At the same instant a voice, that of a man, sounded from the opposite side of the cabin, saying:
"Don't you see that the ventilator is open up above? Shut it, or somebody may see us. They can see down here from the bridge."
"Think of her," the old man exclaimed, in a low voice. "Not of us."
"Of her? Why should I?" inquired the gruff voice of the unseen. "You've killed her, and must take the consequences."
"I——" gasped the old man, staggering with difficulty to his feet, and placing both hands to his eyes, as though to shut out from view that hideous evidence of his crime. "Yes," he cried, in an awe-stricken tone, "she is dead!"
"And a good job, too," responded the unseen man, in a hard and pitiless tone.
"No," cried Keppel angrily. "At least respect her memory. Remember who she was!"
"I shall remember nothing of this night's work," the other responded. "I leave all memories of it as a legacy to you."
"You coward!" cried Keppel, turning upon the speaker, his eyes flashing. "I have endeavoured to assist you, and this is your gratitude."