Wait where you are until I learn what has happened." I bent over and touched him, dropping to my knees, every nerve tingling as my hands felt of the recumbent body.

The fellow lay in a heap, his flesh warm, but with no perceptible heart-beat, no semblance of breathing.

My fingers sought his face, and I could scarcely suppress a cry of surprise--he was not Estada.

Who then was he?
What could have been his purpose in thus invading this stateroom?
All I could grasp was the fact that the fellow was not the Portuguese--he possessed a smooth face, long hair, and was a much smaller man.

It must have become overcast without, for the star-gleam was no longer visible through the after port, and yet a faint light entered, sufficient for my purpose.