he read:

He is on your train under the name of Dorne.

The message was not signed.

Connery touched him on the shoulder. "Come with me, Mr. Eaton."

Eaton got up slowly and mechanically and followed the conductor. At
the door he halted and looked back; Harriet Santoine was not looking;
her face was covered with her hands; Eaton hesitated; then he went on.
Connery threw open the door of the compartment next to the washroom and
corresponding to the drawing-room at the other end of the car, but
smaller.

"You'll do well enough in here." He looked over Eaton deliberately.
"Judging from your manner, I suppose there's not much use expecting you
to answer anything more about yourself--either in relation to the
Warden murder or this?"

"No," said Eaton, "there is not."

"You prefer to make us find out anything more?"

Eaton made no answer.

"All right," Connery concluded. "But if you change your mind for the
better, or if you want anything bad enough to send for me, ring for the
porter and he'll get me."

He closed the door upon Eaton and locked it. As Eaton stood staring at
the floor, he could hear through the metal partition of the washroom
the nervous, almost hysterical weeping of an overstrained girl. The
thing was done; in so far as the authorities on the train were
concerned, it was known that he was the man who had had the appointment
with Gabriel Warden and had disappeared; and in so far as the train
officials could act, he was accused and confined for the attack upon
Basil Santoine. But besides being overwhelmed with the horror of this
position, the manner in which he had been accused had roused him to
helpless anger, to rage at his accusers which still increased as he
heard the sounds on the other side of the partition where Avery was now
trying to silence Harriet Santoine and lead her away.

Why had Avery gone at his accusation of him in that way? Connery had
had the telegram in his pocket from the start of the questioning in the
washroom; Avery had seen and read it; they could have condemned him
with whomever they wished, merely by showing it. Why, then, had Avery
chosen to drag this girl--strained and upset already by the attack upon
her father and with long hours of nursing ahead of her before expert
help could be got--step by step through their accusation of him? Eaton
saw that--whatever Harriet Santoine's casual interest in himself might
be--this showed at least that Avery's relation