Having put Dugan to bed in my room, I stepped into the one where we had been keeping our prisoner. Mott lay on the floor, his body still warm, quite dead. I judged that he had expired within the past few minutes. He had been struck with some blunt instrument and then knifed. The man had paid for his obstinate disbelief with his life.
I lifted the body to the bed, locked the door, and returned to the promenade deck saloon. For the throb of the propeller had ceased. An immediate attack was probably impending.
Miss Berry was sobbing softly in the arms of her niece. In my absence we had gained another adherent. Billie Blue, the cook's flunky, had come up from below.
"Where is Higgins?" I asked.
"Don't know, sir. He left right after lunch."
Alderson, who had been craning out of the door, drew back his head to speak.
"They're coming, sir."
"Down to your cabin, ladies. You go with them, Jimmie. Lock yourselves in," I ordered.
Evelyn's white lips tried to frame some words as she passed me. I understood what she wanted to say.
"I'll be careful," I promised.