Mark prepared to
look around him. Presently Mr. Talbot arose.

"I am going into the smoking-car to smoke a cigar," he said. "Have an
eye on my grip while I am gone."

"All right, uncle."

Hours passed. The two travelers retired to their respective berths.
About two o'clock Mark was startled by a severe shock that nearly threw
him out of his berth. There was a confused shouting, and Mark heard some
one crying.

"What's happened?"

Leaning out of the berth he saw Solon Talbot standing in the aisle, his
face pale as a sheet.

There was a swaying movement of the car, and a sudden lurch. The car had
gone over an embankment.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE TELLTALE MEMORANDUM.

When Mark came to himself he realized that he was lying on his back on
the ground. It was a bright moonlight night, and he could see for some
distance.

First of all he moved his arms and legs to ascertain whether any of his
limbs were broken. Reassured on this point he felt next for the diamond
pin. To his great relief it was safe.

All about him was confusion. He was just thinking of getting up when a
man came along with a lantern, and stooping over, began to feel in the
pockets of a prostrate figure lying near by. Instantly Mark was on the
alert, for he felt sure that this man must be a thief intent on robbing
the victims of the disaster.

He peered into the face of the robber who fancied himself unobserved,
and with a thrill of excitement he recognized the man whom he had met
twice before in New York, and who had called himself Hamilton Schuyler.
At the same time, glancing at the upturned face of the recumbent figure
he saw that it was his uncle, Solon Talbot, still insensible.

Schuyler had just drawn Mr. Talbot's watch from his pocket, when Mark,
putting a whistle to his mouth, blew a sharp note on it.

Schuyler started, let the watch drop, and rose in a state of nervous
alarm.

"What was that?" he cried.

"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler," said Mark calmly, "that gentleman will have
occasion for his watch. You had better let it alone."

"I was only going to take care of it for him," muttered Schuyler.

"You'd take care of it well," retorted Mark.

"Who are you?" demanded Schuyler, and he stepped over to where Mark lay
and peered into his face.

"By jingo, if it isn't the telegraph boy!" he exclaimed. "How came you
here?"

"By the train."

"Have you any more bogus diamonds about you?" inquired Schuyler
sarcastically.

"I might