‘ “It’s nothing to me,” murmured the Northman, swaying visibly.

‘ “Of course not,” assented the Commanding Officer, with a great effort to keep his voice calm and low. The certitude was strong within him. “But I am going to clear all you fellows off this coast at once. And I will begin with you. You must leave in half an hour.”

‘By that time the Officer was walking along the deck with the Northman at his elbow.

‘ “What! In this fog?” the latter cried out, huskily.

‘ “Yes, you will have to go in this fog.”

‘ “But I don’t know where I am. I really don’t.”

‘The Commanding Officer turned round. A sort of fury possessed him. The eyes of the two men met. Those of the Northman expressed a profound amazement.

‘ “Oh, you don’t know how to get out.” The Commanding Officer spoke with composure, but his heart was beating with anger and dread. “I will give you your course. Steer south-by-east-half-east for about four miles and then you will be clear to haul to the eastward for your port. The weather will clear up before very long.”

‘ “Must I? What could induce me? I haven’t the nerve.”

‘ “And yet you must go. Unless you want to—”

‘ “I don’t want to,” panted the Northman. “I’ve enough of it.”

‘The Commanding Officer got over the side. The Northman remained still as if rooted to the deck. Before his boat reached his ship the Commanding Officer heard the steamer beginning to pick up her anchor. Then, shadowy in the fog, she steamed out on the given course.

‘ “Yes,” he said to his officers, “I let him go.” ’

The narrator bent forward towards the couch, where no movement betrayed the presence of a living person.

‘Listen,’ he said, forcibly. ‘That course would lead the Northman straight on a deadly ledge of rock. And the Commanding Officer gave it to him. He steamed out—ran on it—and went down. So he had spoken the truth. He did not know where he was. But it proves nothing. Nothing either way. It may have been the only truth in all his story. And yet … He seems to have been driven out by a menacing stare—nothing more.’

He abandoned all pretence.

‘Yes, I gave that course to him. It seemed to me a supreme test. I believe—no, I don’t believe. I don’t know. At the time I was certain. They all went down; and I don’t know whether I have done stern retribution—or murder; whether I have added to the corpses that litter the bed of the unreadable sea the bodies of men completely innocent or basely guilty. I don’t know. I shall never know.’

He rose. The woman on the couch got up and threw her arms round his neck. Her eyes put two gleams in the deep shadow of the room. She knew his passion for truth, his horror of deceit, his humanity.

‘Oh, my poor, poor—’