and looked out into the aisle.

The Englishman, having elicited all he desired, or could draw, from the
porter, now bulged through his curtains and stood in the aisle,
unabashed, in gaudy pajamas and slippers, while he methodically bundled
his clothes under his arm; then, still garbed only in pajamas, he
paraded majestically to the washroom. The curtains over the berths at
the other end of the car also bulged and emitted the two dark-haired
girls. They were completely kimono-ed over any temporary deficiency of
attire and skipped to the drawing-room inhabited by their parents. The
drawing-room door instantly opened at Amy's knock, admitted the girls
and shut again. Section Seven gave to the aisle the reddish-haired D.
S. He carried coat, collar, hairbrushes and shaving case and went to
join the Briton in the men's washroom.

There was now no one else in the main part of the car; and no berths
other than those already accounted for had been made up. Yet Eaton
still delayed; his first impulse to get up and dress had been lost in
the intensity of the thought in which he was engaged. He had let
himself sink back against the pillows, while he stared, unseeingly, at
the solid bank of snow beside the car, when the door at the further end
of the coach opened and Conductor Connery entered, calling a name.
"Mr. Hillward! Mr. Lawrence Hillward! Telegram for Mr. Hillward!"

Eaton started at the first call of the name; he sat up and faced about.

"Mr. Hillward! Telegram for Mr. Lawrence Hillward!"

The conductor was opposite Section Three; Eaton now waited tensely and
delayed until the conductor was past; then putting his head out of his
curtains and assuring himself that the car was otherwise empty as when
he had seen it last, he hailed as the conductor was going through the
door.

"What name? Who is that telegram for?"

"Mr. Lawrence Hillward."

"Oh, thank you; then that's mine." He put his hand out between the
curtains to take the yellow envelope.

Connery held back. "I thought your name was Eaton."

"It is. Mr. Hillward--Lawrence Hillward--is an associate of mine who
expected to make this trip with me but could not. So I should have
telegrams or other communications addressed to him. Is there anything
to sign?"

"No, sir--train delivery. It's not necessary."

Eaton drew his curtains close again and ripped the envelope open; but
before reading the message, he observed with alarm that his pajama
jac