“Lynch made a movement of dismissal with his hand—a judicial gesture which told me that it was over; the verdict rendered; sentence pronounced. But I was puzzled for the next—eh—step.
“‘Dr. Leyden,’ said Lynch, ‘do you feel that you are in possession of your faculties?’ My head was roaring like a cataract, my skin like ice, and my bones were smouldering coals, but my brain was clear—for the moment—too clear.
“‘Quite,’ I answered—‘in so far as this man is concerned.’
“‘What is your opinion? What course would you advise in the matter?’
“‘I would advise shooting him,’ said I. ‘He requires to be shot, and I do not think that we should waste much time about it. If you do not care to shoot him, I will do so myself,’ I added. Personally, his death was necessary to our safety in a way, yet that did not occur to me. I was thinking of the diary, the little blue pillow and the deaf-mute girl.
“‘It makes no difference,’ said Lynch, and his hand tightened on the stock of the revolver; then he suddenly paused—and I guessed why.
“‘She cannot hear,’ I said. ‘She is deaf.’
“‘That is so—I overlooked the fact,’ softly.
“McAdoo was watching Lynch in a fascinated way—and I was watching McAdoo. When the report came he pitched forward, and I scrambled to my feet and rescued the little blue pillow.”
Leyden was silent—and so was I. He did nothing, said nothing, but we both sat and watched the growing lights in the sea, the increase in the phosphorescence as the moon set.
“It was really a very simple matter,” said Leyden, lightly, “and it has always been a source of satisfaction to me. It was all so sensible; so many fools would have wanted to give the brute a chance. Lynch had the right idea; he did not even invite any closing remarks; the only one that was really apropos was made by his Colt, and was quite unanswerable.
“Would you believe it, Doctor, the people were sufficiently Christianized to regard the whole thing as a visitation. Not a soul was in sight when we left, taking the girl with us. Lynch himself conducted her back to England and placed her in an institution.
“Yes—the trip was a success. My anthropologist thought so, I thought so, Lynch thought so, and I have not the slightest doubt that the semi-civilized Dyaks, who still slip through the shadows and peer between the jalousies of the ruined mission-house at the thing which is, perhaps, still held in that ample chair, think so as well.”