I doubt if for love or even for money, but I think possibly, from pity
that man provided him with what Mr. Powell called "strong stuff." From
what Powell saw of the very act I am fairly certain it must have been
contained in a capsule and that he had it about him on the last day of
his trial, perhaps secured by a stitch in his waistcoat pocket. He
didn't use it. Why? Did he think of his child at the last moment? Was
it want of courage? We can't tell. But he found it in his clothes when
he came out of jail. It had escaped investigation if there was any.
Chance had armed him. And chance alone, the chance of Mr. Powell's life,
forced him to turn the abominable weapon against himself.
I imparted my theory to Mr. Powell who accepted it at once as, in a
sense, favourable to the father of Mrs. Anthony. Then he waved his hand.
"Don't let us think of it."
I acquiesced and very soon he observed dreamily: "I was with Captain and Mrs. Anthony sailing all over the world for near
on six years. Almost as long as Franklin."
"Oh yes! What about Franklin?" I asked.
Powell smiled. "He left the Ferndale a year or so afterwards, and I
took his place. Captain Anthony recommended him for a command. You
don't think Captain Anthony would chuck a man aside like an old glove.
But of course Mrs. Anthony did not like him very much. I don't think she
ever let out a whisper against him but Captain Anthony could read her
thoughts.
And again Powell seemed to lose himself in the past. I asked, for
suddenly the vision of the Fynes passed through my mind.
"Any children?"
Powell gave a start. "No! No! Never had any children," and again
subsided, puffing at his short briar pipe.
"Where are they now?" I inquired next as if anxious to ascertain that all
Fyne's fears had been misplaced and vain as our fears often are; that
there were no undesirable cousins for his dear girls, no danger of
intrusion on their spotless home. Powell looked round at me slowly, his
pipe smouldering in his hand.
"Don't you know?" he uttered in a deep voice.
"Know what?"
"That the Ferndale was lost this four years or more. Sunk. Collision.
And Captain Anthony went down with her."
"You don't say so!" I cried quite affected as if I had known Captain
Anthony personally. "Was--was Mrs. Anthony lost too?"