Phillips smiled and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he had no
more to say. Jocelyn Thew stole softly out, followed, a moment later,
by Katharine.

"The doctor thinks I am better away," she whispered. "He won't speak
again. Poor fellow!"

Jocelyn stepped softly up the stairs and drew a little breath of
relief as they reached the promenade deck without meeting any one.
Both seemed to feel the desire for fresh air, and they stepped outside
for a moment. There were tears in Katharine's eyes.

"Of course," she said, a little timidly, "I don't understand this at
all, but it is terribly tragic. Do you think that he would have lived
if he had not undertaken the journey?"

"It was absolutely impossible," her companion assured her. "He was a
dying man from the moment the operation was finished."

"Will he be buried at sea?"

"I think not. He was exceedingly anxious to be buried at his home near
Chester. It isn't a pleasant thing to talk about," Jocelyn went on,
"but they brought his coffin on board with him. It's lying in the
companionway now, covered over with a rug."

She shivered.

"It's a horrible day altogether," she declared, looking out into the
seemingly endless banks of mist.