He leaned against the door and touched his face with his hand. His palm felt cold and clammy, and he thought of young Maynard alone with this appalling spectacle. No one could have blamed him if he had rushed screaming to the upper-deck.

“My God!” Herrick’s voice hung in the gloom in a mocking echo. He almost cried out again as a foot rasped on the ladder behind him, but as he groped blindly for his pistol he saw that it was Captain Rennie, his scarlet coat like a reflection of the blood on the cabin deck.

Rennie brushed past him and stared fixedly at the corpse. Then he said coldly, “I’ll put two of my best men on guard here. The cabin must be sealed until there has been an investigation.” He eyed Herrick meaningly. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Herrick felt himself nod. “I do.” He pulled himself together. “I’ll go and tell the captain.”

As he climbed up the ladder Rennie called quietly, “Easy, Thomas. There will be at least one guilty man watching your face on deck!”

Herrick glanced back at the open cabin door, making himself form a final picture of the murdered man. “I suppose I was expecting something like this.” He bit his lip. “But when it comes, it’s still a shock.”

Rennie watched him go and then stepped carefully over the glaring corpse. Ignoring the thing by his polished boots he began to search methodically amongst the scattered souvenirs of the purser’s life.

* * *

Herrick’s face was like stone as he crossed to the weather side of the quarterdeck to where Bolitho was still speaking with Vibart. He touched his hat and waited until Bolitho turned to face him.

“Well, Mr Herrick?” Bolitho’s smile of welcome faded. “Is it more trouble?”

Herrick looked quickly around him. “Mr Evans has been murdered, sir.” He spoke in a tight, clipped voice which he no longer recognised. “Maynard found him a few minutes ago.” He ran his hand across his face. It was still cold, like the mark of death.

Bolitho said slowly, “What have you done so far, Mr Herrick?” There was nothing in his question to betray what he must be feeling, and his features were composed in an impassive mask. “Take your time. Just tell me what you saw.”

Herrick moved closer to the rail, his eyes on the glittering water. In a slow, flat voice he described the events from the moment Maynard had appeared on deck to the actual second of realisation.

Bolitho listened in complete silence, and at Herrick’s side Vibart stood swaying with the ship, his hands opening and closing from either anger or shock at Maynard’s discovery.

Herrick concluded heavily, “He had not been dead long, sir.” He found himself repeating the midshipman’s words. “He has been cut to pieces.”

Captain Rennie marched across the deck and said crisply, “I have put some men on guard, sir.” He saw Bolitho looking at his boots and bent quickly to wipe a bright stain from the polished leather. He added calmly, “I’ve had a good look round, sir. Evans’s pistols are missing. Stolen most likely.”