CHAPTER III.

FOUND DEAD.

The excitement of arrival at a new place is only equalled by the excitement of departure, and as the "Neptune" was to leave at nine o'clock no one thought of going to bed until the anchor was up.

The deck was crowded with passengers talking gaily about their adventures during the day, and here and there could be seen the strange faces of new arrivals on board. All round the steamer numerous boats, each bearing a light, were cruising about, and the water looked as if covered with restless fire-flies. Every now and then the whistle would sound in order to summon heedless passengers who had forgotten the hour of sailing. A lot of people had come to see new passengers off, and some were having a parting glass at the bar, while others were talking together in knots on deck. It was a very animated scene, and Ronald, standing by Ventin, felt amused at the chatter and bustle that was going on. Ventin however, eyed the crowd in his usual gloomy manner, and Ronald could not help asking him the cause of his lowering looks.

"Nothing more than common," he answered, carelessly; "I've seen all this sort of thing so often, it has become dreary--I'm bored, and I detest being bored."

"Are you afraid of seeing your wife?"

"Well, I don't know," replied Ventin, pulling his mustache; "if she thinks she can make a row she certainly will, but as I am under another name she will ask for me by my real one, and therefore she will be told there's no such person on board."

"And then?" interrogatively.

"Oh as she saw me in Valletta to-day she will think I'm stopping there, and hunt everywhere for me--I hope her patience will be rewarded--by the way, when do we start?"

"Nine o'clock," replied Ronald, looking at his watch, "it's now half-past eight."

"I'll go to bed, I think," observed Mr. Ventin, holding out his hand.

"Won't you wait till we start?"

"Too sleepy," yawned the other.

"Well if your fellow-traveller enters later you will be awakened."

"I daresay," said Ventin; "but I've got a whole cabin to myself--queer you haven't seen some things you'd like to look at."

"What is the number?" asked Monteith, carelessly.

"Forty-three."

Some one pushed against Ronald at that moment and he did not hear Ventin's answer.

"What number did you say?"

"Forty-three," from Ventin, in a louder tone of voice, "look me up in the morning--at present, good-bye," and he shook the young man's hand cordially.

"Good night you mean," said Ronald, laughing.

"It's all the same thing," replied Ventin, idly, "like Kathleen Mavourneen--it may be for years and it may be for ever--good night," and he moved away slowly down the saloon steps.

Ronald remained leaning over the bulwarks looking at the stream of people coming up, and presently he was joined by Pat Ryan, who made facetious remarks on the late arrivals.

"How much sham jewellery have ye got, Chester?" he asked of a fair young man who came lurching up, evidently having more on board than he could carry. Mr. Chester made some unintelligible reply, and Pat resumed, "Oh! it's _sham_-pagne ye took instead; it's a bad pun, but a heavenly truth. That you Bentley: how many girls have you mashed to-day? Begad, if your success has only been equal to your knowledge of Maltese it's mighty small progress ye've made. Ah! Monteith me boy, that's a pretty girl in black, I hope she's come on board to stop; keep your wicked eyes off her, ye villain, or I'll set Mrs. Pellypop on to you."

The girl in question was neither pretty nor fascinating, but Pat's tongue, once started, never knew when to stop; and Ronald was just going to march him off to the bar as the only way of closing his mouth, when the last bell was rung, and the cry of "All aboard for the shore" was heard.

A rush took place to the side, and a black line of people streamed down the gangway, then the ladder was lifted up; the old and new passengers lined the bulwarks and sang out "good-byes" to their friends in the darkness--the anchor was tripped--the whistle blew, and the throb of the engines announced that the "Neptune" was once more on her way to England.

"I wonder if anyone is left behind," said Ronald to Ryan, as they went to the smoking-room.

"They must be deaf if they are," retorted Pat; "that divil of a whistle would wake the dead--now me boy, what is it to be?"

"Whiskey and soda for me," said Monteith, when they were comfortably established in the smoking-room, through the wide doorway of which they could see the lights of Valletta fading slowly away.

"I'll follow suit," said Pat promptly, lighting his pipe. "Two whiskeys and soda, steward, and not too much soda."

All the ladies, tired with their experiences of Valletta, had gone to bed, and the smoking-room was filled with gentlemen whose tastings of the wines of the country had made them more exhilarated than usual. Being convivially disposed they ordered more liquor, and prepared to make a night of it.

"Where's Ventin?" asked Pat.

"Gone to bed," replied Monteith, knocking the ashes from his pipe.

"The deuce he has," said Ryan with surprise; "that's unusual for him."

"Tired I suppose," was the answer.

"It's a pity," observed Ryan, regretfully; "he is a deuced good fellow for a song."

"Give us one yourself Pat," said Bentley, tapping his glass on the table.

"Mr. Ryan for a song gentlemen."

"Yes a song--a song"--from all.

"Something jolly?" from Chester, who was now quite intoxicated.

"I'll sing ye 'Killaloe,'" said Pat; "it's got a touch of the brogue about it that will go beautifully with the whiskey."

So he accordingly sang "Killaloe" to a delighted audience, who joined in the chorus with bacchanalian vehemence, and who gave the "Whoop ye divils" at the end with a vigour worthy of Donnybrook Fair. Then Ronald sang, "Wrap me up in my old stable jacket"--that old song which is always such a favourite; and after sundry other selections had been given by gentlemen with good intentions, but husky voices, Pat was called on to sing his favourite nigger song, "I love a lubly gal." A pleasant voice had Pat, and he sang the plaintive little melody in a charmingly sympathetic manner--

"I love a lubly gal, I do, And I have loved a gal or two; An' I know how a gal should be Lub'd--you bet I do."

Ronald found himself humming it as he went to bed, and then fell to sleep, and dreamt the dark girl he had seen that day in Valletta was the "lubly gal" he loved.

* * * * *

Next morning they were out of sight of land, afloat on the blue waters, with the blue sky above them. Ronald was up early, as he found it too hot to remain below, and having had his tub and arrayed himself in his flannels, he went on deck to have a smoke before the ladies put in an appearance. The lascars were washing down the deck, and disturbing numerous sleepers who had been taking their rest all night upstairs for the sake of coolness. One of these was Pat, who came stumbling out of the smoking-room in his pyjama, with a fur rug under one arm and a pillow under the other.

"Hullo Pat," said Monteith, laughing; "you look as if you were going to the pawnbroker."

"I want to go to bed," retorted Pat crossly; "those divils in the smoking-room always commence shyin' pillows in the morning, and I'm as sleepy as Rip Van Winkle. I'll have another forty winks."

"Nonsense," said Ronald, looking at his watch; "it's about seven; go and have your bath and join me on deck."

"All roight," assented Pat, with a gigantic yawn; "I daresay cold water will wake me up."

"And, I say," called out Monteith, as Pat rolled along towards the saloon, "knock up Ventin; his cabin is No. 43."

"Roight you are," from Pat, as he disappeared.

Ronald took a turn along to the end of the hurricane deck and, after surveying the slumbering forms in the smoking-room, walked back again. Just as he got to the captain's cabin he saw a steward emerge therefrom with horror and alarm on his face.

"Hullo," said the Australian, stopping short; "what's up?"

"Oh, sir," gasped the steward, pausing a moment, "Mr. Ventin, sir--he's dead--murdered!" and he ran off to the cabin of the first officer.

Ronald sat down on the nearest seat and let the cigarette drop from his fingers.

Ventin--dead--murdered!

Monteith thought of the dead man's story and how he said he would never reach England alive. His presentiment of evil was right after all for his wife had fulfilled her promise, and killed him. "But she will not escape punishment," thought Ronald, "for in order to commit the crime she must have come on board."

The news was soon all over the ship, and in a short time all the passengers were on deck. The captain, the first officer, the doctor, and the purser all went along to see the body, after which the door of the cabin was locked while they deliberated over what was to be done. The excitement was intense, for no one doubted but that a murder had been committed, though no official notice had been given, and everyone was puzzling over what could have been the motive for such a crime. Only one man on board had a clue, and this was Ronald Monteith, who determined to tell the captain Ventin's strange story, and then have the ship thoroughly searched to see if the Maltese wife of the deceased could be discovered.

After breakfast, when all the passengers were gathered in excited groups talking over the affair, Monteith went along and asking permission to see the captain on the subject, told him everything, while the doctor went down to make an examination of the body.

As the weather was very hot, the corpse would have to be buried before arrival at Gibraltar, and Captain Templeton determined to hold an inquest at once. A jury was chosen from the passengers, and the captain acted as coroner, while the witnesses were the steward, who had discovered the body, the doctor, and Ronald Monteith.

The jury, having inspected the body, went into the captain's cabin to hold the inquest, and the proceedings were opened by a speech from Captain Templeton.

He stated that a crime had been committed on board the ship, and it behoved every passenger to use his or her best energies to find out who had committed it. The idea of suicide had been talked about, but they would hear from the evidence of Mr. Monteith, an intimate friend of the deceased, that the dead man had distinctly denied having any such idea. He went to bed the previous night at half-past eight, and at seven that morning one of the stewards, by name Matthew Dalton, had gone to the deceased's cabin and found him lying dead with a stiletto in his heart. The stiletto would be laid before the jury, the evidence of the steward, the doctor, and of Mr. Monteith taken, and every attempt would be made to find the author of this dastardly crime.

The first witness called was Dalton, who deposed that he had knocked at the door of the deceased at seven as usual, but receiving no reply had entered, and found him lying in the lower berth, with a stiletto (produced) in his breast. He was completely dressed, and as all the furniture of the cabin was in order, there was no sign of any struggle.

The stiletto produced was a slender, steel instrument, about seven inches long, with a curiously carved ivory handle, representing the head of Bacchus, surrounded by clusters of grapes.

Captain: Were the bed-clothes in the berth disarranged?

Witness: No sir; he was lying on top of 'em.

Captain: Quite dressed?

Witness: Yes sir; just as if he was taking a sleep afore turning in.

Captain: Any of his jewellery missing?

Witness: No sir; his watch was in his pocket, and two rings on his fingers.

Captain: When did you last see him alive?

Witness: Yesterday, when he came on board at Valletta.

Captain: How long was he ashore?

Witness: About an hour sir; he came back at three o'clock; he seemed upset, and asked me to get him a glass of brandy.

Captain: Do you know what time he went to bed?

Witness: No sir.

Captain: Was there any blood about the cabin?

Witness: No sir; just a little oozing from his breast.

The doctor was next called upon to give his evidence, and deposed that he had examined the body of Lionel Ventin, deceased. It was that of a man of thirty-seven, or thereabouts, well nourished; very little food in the stomach, but a faint spirituous odour, which showed that the deceased must have been drinking previously to his death. The deceased had died from a stab inflicted by a stiletto, which had penetrated the heart. The stiletto was in the wound when the body was discovered.

Captain: At what time do you think the crime was committed?

Doctor: That is difficult to say; it was quite cold when I felt it, at seven this morning. I should say at least eight or nine hours.

Captain: From the way the wound was inflicted, did the idea of suicide occur to you?

Doctor: No; the stiletto was long, and as the body was lying in a lower compartment, he could not have lifted the stiletto high enough to have driven it so deeply, without knocking his hand against the bottom of the top berth.

Captain: If he had managed to do so, would there be any bruise or mark on his hand?

Doctor: I should say very likely; but I did not discover any.

Captain: Was there much blood?

Doctor: Very little; the stiletto had been driven into the heart and left there, so comparatively little blood could ooze out.

This closed the evidence of the doctor, and then Ronald Monteith stepped forward and told the jury the story of the deceased.

Captain: You say the deceased expected to be killed by his wife?

Monteith: He told me so several times.

Captain: And did he ever say he would commit suicide?

Monteith: He distinctly denied having any such intention.

Captain: When did you see him last?

Monteith: At half-past eight last night; he said he would go to bed early.

Captain: Was he excited in any way?

Monteith: No; just the same as usual.

Captain: If your theory is correct, and the deceased was murdered by his wife, as he expected to be, do you think she came on board at Valletta?

Monteith: Yes; I am sure of it. (Sensation.)

Captain: Will you give us your reasons?

Monteith: The deceased saw his wife in Malta, and she recognised him. When he left me at half-past eight to go to his cabin, there was a number of strangers on board; if his wife were on board, she could easily have followed him to his cabin and killed him.

Captain: But she would not know the number of his cabin?

Monteith: Yes, she would. He asked me to see him in the morning, and told me the number of his cabin twice; the second time he spoke so loudly, that anyone could have heard, and immediately afterwards went away.

Captain: Then you think the crime was committed before the sailing of the ship?

Monteith: I can't say; if, as the doctor says, the deceased had been dead for nine hours, this would bring the time of the commission of the crime to nine o'clock last night, at which time the ship sailed.

The captain asked Monteith a few other questions, and then the inquest was adjourned till the next morning.