then, abruptly, it turned away. Avery stood clinging to
the curtain, his eyes darting from one to another of the three men.

"As he was found? When?" he demanded. "Who found him that way? When?
How?"

"I found him so," Connery answered.

Avery said nothing more.

"Will you start your examination now, Dr. Sinclair," Connery suggested.
"No--I'll ask you to wait a minute."

Noises were coming to them from the platforms at both ends of the car,
and the doors were being tried and pounded on, as passengers attempted
to pass through. Connery went to the rear, where the negro had been
posted; then, repassing them, he went to the other end of the car. The
noises ceased. "The Pullman conductor is forward, and the brakeman is
back there now," he said, as he turned to them. "You will not be
interrupted, Dr. Sinclair."

"What explanation did you give them?" Eaton asked.

"Why?" Connery returned.

"I was thinking of Miss Dorne."

"I told them nothing which could disturb her." Connery, as he spoke,
pulled back the curtains, entirely exposing the berth.

The surgeon, before examining the man in the berth more closely, lifted
the shades from the windows. Everything about the berth was in place,
undisturbed; except for the mark of the savage blow on the side of the
man's head, there was no evidence of anything unusual. The man's
clothes were carefully and neatly hung on the hooks or in the little
hammock; his glasses were in their case beside the pillow; his watch
and purse were under the pillow; the window at his feet was still
raised a crack to let in fresh air while he slept. Save for the marks
upon the head, the man might yet be sleeping. It was self-evident
that, whatever had been the motives of the attack, robbery was not one;
whoever had struck had done no more than reach in and deliver his
murderous blow; then he had gone on.

Connery shut the window.

As the surgeon carefully and deliberately pulled back the bedclothing
and exposed the body of the man clothed in pajamas, the others watched
him. Sinclair made first an examination of the head; completing this,
he unbuttoned the pajamas upon the chest, loosened them at the waist
and prepared to make his examination of the body.

"How long has he been dead?" Connery asked.

"He is not dead yet."

"You mean he is still dying?"

"I did not say so."

"You mean he is alive, then?"

"Life is still present," Sinclair answered guardedly. "Whether he