"It was not old enough for that, sir," said the elder boatman; "it is
but a fair little mite--a baby girl; they say not more than three months
old."

Ah! why did the beautiful, desperate face I had seen the night before
flash before my eyes then?

The boatman went on:

"It is plain to my eyes that it is a murder, although the child is but a
tender babe; all the greater murder for that; a bigger child might have
helped itself; this one could not."

"Tell me about it," I said.

Ah! if my heart would but stop beating, or if the beautiful, desperate
face would but fade from my memory.

"It was James Clayton who found it," continued the old man. "He was at
work in the jetty this morning when he caught sight of something moving
up and down with the waves. At first he thought it looked like an old
rag, and he took no notice of it; then something about it attracted his
attention more and more. He went nearer, and found that it was a gray
and black shawl, that had caught on some large hooks which had been
driven into the wooden pillars for some purpose or other--a woman's
shawl, sure as could be; some lady, he thought, had dropped it over the
pier, and it had caught on these hooks below the water. Jim was pleased.
He thought, if worth anything, he might get a trifle reward for it; if
not, he might take it home to his old mother.