been listening attentively, made a convulsive movement which upset his glass.
'And then?' said the breathless captain.
'Shot,' said Attwater. 'They came to ground together.'
Herrick sprang to his feet with a shriek and an insensate gesture.
'It was a murder,' he screamed. 'A cold-hearted, bloody-minded murder! You monstrous being! Murderer and hypocrite—murderer and hypocrite—murderer and hypocrite' he repeated, and his tongue stumbled among the words.
The captain was by him in a moment. 'Herrick!' he cried, 'behave yourself! Here, don't be a blame' fool!'
Herrick struggled in his embrace like a frantic child, and suddenly bowing his face in his hands, choked into a sob, the first of many, which now convulsed his body silently, and now jerked from him indescribable and meaningless sounds.
'Your friend appears over-excited,' remarked Attwater, sitting unmoved but all alert at table.
'It must be the wine,' replied the captain. 'He ain't no drinking man, you see. I—I
