Randall Parrish,
Wolves of the Sea — XVII. A Murder on Board
(1918)
“ What did you do?""I struck him with a chair; he lies there on the deck. Wait where you are until I learn what has happened."I bent over and touched him, dropping to my knees, every nerve tingling as my hands felt of the recumbent body. The fellow lay in a heap, his flesh warm, but with no perceptible heart-beat, no semblance of breathing. My fingers sought his face, and I could scarcely suppress a cry of surprise—he was not Estada. Who then was he? What could have been his purpose in thus invading this stateroom? ”
