At that moment a lady came to me and said in an awed whisper:
"Dr. Marmion, is it true that the man who committed suicide was a
second-class passenger, and that he appeared at the ball last night, and
danced with Mrs. Falchion?"
I knew that my reply would soon become common property, so I said:
"He was a first-class passenger, though until yesterday he travelled
second-class. I knew him. His name was Charles Boyd. I introduced him to
Mrs. Falchion last night, but he did not stay long on deck, because he
felt ill. He had heart trouble. You may guess that he was tired of life."
Then I told her of the paper which was for the public, and she left me.
The search for the unfortunate men went on. No one could be seen near the
floating buoys which were here and there picked up by Hungerford's boat.
The long undulations of the water had been broken up in a large area
about the ship, but the sea was still comparatively smooth. We were
steaming back along the track we had come. There was less excitement on
board than might be expected. The tropical stillness of the air, the
quiet suddenness of the tragedy itself, the grim decisiveness of
Hungerford, the watchful silence of a few men like Colonel Ryder and
Clovelly, had effect upon even the emotion of those women, everywhere
found, who get a morbid enjoyment out of misery.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163