He poured a bit more until one trail of blood reached the edge, made a right angle, and then plummeted to the fake wood floor. He stopped pouring and ...atched other trails follow the vertical route. He meticulously placed a sturdy metal ruler on the table and dragged it across, funneling the blood back in to the bag. Whatever his ruler didn’t catch was left to stain the floor and table, which, of course, he would clean half of later. He then opened the second bag and strained the blood with the. I noted a curtained alcove, which I took to be the captain’s sleeping berth. There were surprising touches of a woman’s hand in the décor of the cabin, such as tastefully arranged cushions, with a definite scent of attar of roses on the drapery concealing the captain’s bed.Hands was a large, imposing, man of some sixty years of age, his weather-beaten complexion testifying he had spent most of those years at sea. In fact he had first visited India when a ten year- old cabin boy.“In them days,”. More

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