"Wonder if he got it before or after he got in the water."

"That's for the coroner to say."

"Much he knows or cares," said another cynically. "It'll just be a case
of 'Found drowned' and the regular twenty-five dollars to HIM, and five
to the man who found the body. That's enough for him to know."

Thrilled with a vague anxiety, Randolph edged forward for a nearer view
of the wretched derelict still gently undulating on the towline. The
closer he looked the more he was impressed by the idea of some frightful
mask that hid a face that refused to be recognized. But his attention
became fixed on a man who was giving some advice or orders and examining
the body scrutinizingly. Without knowing why, Randolph felt a sudden
aversion to him, which was deepened when the man, lifting his head, met
Randolph's eyes with a pair of shifting yet aggressive ones. He bore,
nevertheless, an odd, weird likeness to the missing man Randolph was
seeking, which strangely troubled him. As the stranger's eyes followed
him and lingered with a singular curiosity on Randolph's dress, he
remembered with a sudden alarm that he was wearing the suit of the
missing man. A quick impulse to conceal himself came upon him, but he as
quickly conquered it, and returned the man's cold stare with an anger he
could not account for, but which made the stranger avert his eyes. Then
the man got into the boat beside the boatman, and the two again towed
away the corpse. The head rose and fell with the swell, as if nodding a
farewell. But it was still defiant, under its shapeless mask, that even
wore a smile, as if triumphant in its hideous secret.