I think that final blow, which had felled him, had
brought his shaven skull in such violent contact with the wall
that he had died of the thundering concussion set up.
Kneeling there and looking into his upturned eyes, I became aware
that my position was not an enviable one, particularly since I
felt little disposed to set the law on the track of the real
culprit. For this man who now lay dead at my feet was doubtless
one of the pair who had attempted the life of the fireman of the
Jupiter.
That my seafaring acquaintance had designed to kill the Chinaman
I did not believe, despite his stormy words: the death had been
an accident, and (perhaps my morality was over-broad) I
considered the assault to have been justified.
Now my ideas led me further yet. The dead Chinaman wore a rough
blue coat, and gingerly, for I found the contact repulsive, I
inserted my hand into the inside pocket. Immediately my fingers
closed upon a familiar object--and I stood up, whistling
slightly, and dangling in my left hand the missing pigtail!
Beyond doubt Justice had guided the seaman's blows. This was the
man who had murdered my dark-eyed visitor!
I stood perfectly still, directing the little white ray of my
flashlight upon the pigtail in my hand.
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