preparation as the end of a journey was at hand.

There were many calls for the porter, yet no porter appeared. At last
the attendant was found--lazy villain!--asleep, snoring loudly,
stertorously, in his little bunk at the end of the car. He was roused
with difficulty, and set about his work in a dull, unwilling, lethargic
way, which promised badly for his tips from those he was supposed to
serve.

By degrees all the passengers got dressed, all but two,--the lady in 9
and 10, who had made no sign as yet; and the man who occupied alone a
double berth next her, numbered 7 and 8.

As it was the porter's duty to call every one, and as he was anxious,
like the rest of his class, to get rid of his travellers as soon as
possible after arrival, he rapped at each of the two closed doors behind
which people presumably still slept.

The lady cried "All right," but there was no answer from No. 7 and 8.

Again and again the porter knocked and called loudly. Still meeting
with no response, he opened the door of the compartment and went in.

It was now broad daylight. No blind was down; indeed, the one narrow
window was open, wide; and the whole of the interior of the compartment
was plainly visible, all and everything in it.

The occupant lay on his bed motionless. Sound asleep? No, not merely
asleep--the twisted unnatural lie of the limbs, the contorted legs, the
one arm drooping listlessly but stiffly over the side of the berth, told