His plans were disturbed by a muffled sound from the inner cabin, a sound so unusual that McTee stiffened in his chair with horror and then rose slowly.
Tiptoe he stole across the floor and laid a hand lightly on the knob of the door of the captain's private room.

It turned easily without any creak, and the door opened a few inches.

There sat Henshaw with his back to McTee, leaning over a table.

Gold pieces were spilled loosely across the surface of the wood--possibly the contents of three or four of those small canvas bags--and Henshaw leaned forward with his forehead resting upon the glittering yellow coins and one hand clutching a quantity of them.

His other hand held a photograph of the dead Beatrice.