"No; she said she was nervous."

"The same thing--only better. Then she persisted in talking of
the crime, and finally she said she would like to see the axe. It
wouldn't do any harm. She, wouldn't touch it."

He watched me uneasily.

"She didn't either," he said. "I'll swear to that, Leslie. She
didn't go near the bunk. She covered her face with her hands, and
leaned against the door. I thought she was going to faint."

"Against the door, of course! And got an impression of the key.
The door opens in. She could take out the key, press it against a
cake of wax or even a cake of soap in her hand, and slip it back
into the lock again while you--What were you doing while she was
doing all that?"

"She dropped her salts. I picked them up."

"Exactly! Well, the axe is gone."

He started up on his elbow.

"Gone!"

"Thrown overboard, probably. It is not in the cabin."

It was brutal, perhaps; but the situation was all of that. As Burns