A steward--the one to whom Professor Deeping had spoken--lay
writhing at the foot of the stairs leading to the saloon-deck. His
right hand had been severed above the wrist!




CHAPTER II

THE GIRL WITH THE VIOLET EYES


During the next day or two my mind constantly reverted to the
incidents of the voyage home. I was perfectly convinced that the
curtain had been partially raised upon some fantasy in which
Professor Deeping figured.

But I had seen no more of Deeping nor had I heard from him, when
abruptly I found myself plunged again into the very vortex of his
troubled affairs. I was half way through a long article, I
remember, upon the mystery of the outrage at the docks. The poor
steward whose hand had been severed lay in a precarious condition,
but the police had utterly failed to trace the culprit.

I had laid down my pen to relight my pipe (the hour was about ten
at night) when a faint sound from the direction of the outside
door attracted my attention. Something had been thrust through
the letter-box.