you first that is sounds ridiculous on the face of it, but something which—well, which I saw myself."
"Tell me," said the cleric, leaning farther forward over the table.
The captain sat up rigid in his chair, took his pipe from between his lips, and spoke as if repeating a lesson that he didn't understand.
"Once in a Cuban town, in a little Cuban town—can't remember the precise longitude and latitude—but that's no matter, and I can't even remember the name of the town or what I was doing there exactly, but that has no odds on the story."
"Go on," said the cleric.
"Well, in this little Cuban town I saw an old priest die. He was as dead as this table, you understand; the doctor said so, and I knew it. Well, imagine my horror when half an hour after death this old man arose, entered the next hut, and deliberately, brutally, and carefully stabbed a sleeping child to death."
The Doctor said nothing, but just looked at the captain.
Jerry stopped eating and looked at Doctor Syn. He was pale, very pale.
Then the captain leaned over the table and continued speaking, but not like a lesson, for there was a thrill in his voice that carried conviction, so Jerry looked at him.
"I found out afterward that the dead fellow had
