have--money."

I began to understand her.

"I see," I said slowly. "They want to bribe me."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"That is a nasty word. They might wish to buy--a key or two that
you carry."

"The storeroom key, of course. But what other?"

She looked around--we were alone. A light breeze filled the sails
and flicked the end of a scarf she wore against my face.

"The key to the captain's cabin," she said, very low.

That was what they wished to buy: the incriminating key to the
storeroom, found on Turner's floor, and access to the axe, with
its telltale prints on the handle.

The stewardess saw my face harden, and put her hand on my arm.

"Now I am afraid of you!" she cried: "When you look like that!"

"Mrs. Sloane," I said, "I do not know that you were asked to do
this--I think not. But if you were, say for me what I am willing
to say for myself: I shall tell what I know, and there is not
money enough in the world to prevent my telling it straight. The