his extraordinary pallor even more ghastly than before, and the scar on his chin blazed with an angry flush as though he had been freshly branded on the face.
He listened to the purser’s statement, manifesting extreme agitation as the story proceeded, and at its conclusion fell back upon his pillow and covered his face with his hands. “I can tell you nothing,” he said, after a brief silence, speaking in a smothered voice that was singularly discordant. “I left him, smoking and leaning on the rail near the turtle-back, and came below at eleven o’clock. You must have heard me,” he added, appealing to Farnham, who nodded assent. “What followed is as dark to me as it is to you. I had been drinking and my recollection is confused; I only remember that the sea was horrible to look at!” and with a shudder he turned his face to the wall, and Farnham and the purser, exchanging a significant glance, left him.
