He was just dead.
Impulsively Byrne got away from the body as if the mystery of an incomprehensible death had changed his pity into suspicion and dread.
The lamp on the floor near the set, still face of the seaman showed it staring at the ceiling as if despairingly.

In the circle of light Byrne saw by the undisturbed patches of thick dust on the floor that there had been no struggle in that room.

"He has died outside," he thought.

Yes, outside in that narrow corridor, where there was hardly room to turn, the mysterious death had come to his poor dear Tom.

The impulse of snatching up his pistols and rushing out of the room abandoned Byrne suddenly.