I opened my eyes and blinked at the lamp, and vaguely
noted the yellow oil washing to and fro in the bowl. Then the white
square of the "Avis aux Voyageurs" caught my eye in the gloom under the
luggage-rack, and beneath it, on the seat, I saw the light reflected
from the lock of the German's portmanteau. Next I was conscious of the
German himself still sleeping in his corner, but no longer puffing and
grunting as when I had fallen asleep. Then I raised my head, looked
round the carriage, and the next moment sprang bolt upright in dismay.

Where was my Fascinating Friend?

Gone! vanished! There was not a trace of him. His valise, his
great-coat, all had disappeared. Only in the little cigar-ash box on the
window-frame I saw the flat cigarette which he had barely lighted--how
long before? I looked at my watch: it must have been about an hour and a
half ago.

By this time I had all my faculties about me. I looked across at the
German, intending to ask him if he knew anything of our late
travelling-companion. Then I noticed that his head had fallen forward in
such a way that it seemed to me suffocation must be imminent. I
approached him, and put down my head to look into his face. As I did so
I saw a roundish black object on the oil-cloth floor not far from the
toe of his boot. The lamplight was reflected at a single point from its
convex surface. I put down my hand and touched it. It was liquid. I
looked at my fingers--they were not black, but red. I think (but am not
sure) that I screamed aloud. I shrank to the other end of the carriage,
and it was some moments before I had sufficient presence of mind to look
for a means of communicating with the guard. Of course there was none. I
was alone for an indefinite time with a dead man. But was he dead? I had
little doubt, from the way his head hung, that his throat was cut, and a
horrible fascination drew me to his side to examine. No; there was no
sign of the hideous fissure I expected to find beneath the gray bristles
of his beard. His head fell forward again into the same position, and I
saw with horror that I had left two bloody fingermarks upon the gray
shade of his sleeping-cap. Then I noticed for the first time that the
window he was facing stood open, for a gust of wind came through it and
blew back the lapel of his coat. What was that on his waistcoat? I tore
the coat back and examined: it was a small triangular hole just over the
heart, and round it there was a dar