at last. "Then, if I were you, I should have the saloon shunted
on to a siding and left absolutely untouched. You had better
place two of your station police in charge while you telephone to
Scotland Yard."

"To Scotland Yard?" the station-master exclaimed.

The doctor nodded. He looked around as though to be sure that
none of that anxious crowd outside could overhear.

"There's no question of heart disease here," he explained. "The
man has been murdered!"

The station-master was horrified,--horrified and blankly
incredulous.

"Murdered!" he repeated. "Why, it's impossible! There was no one
else on the train except the attendant--not a single other
person. All my advices said one passenger only."

The doctor touched the man's coat with his finger, and the
station-master saw what he had not seen before,--saw what made
him turn away, a little sick. He was a strong man, but he was not
used to this sort of thing, and he had barely recovered yet from
the first shock of finding himself face to face with a dead man.
Outside, the crowd upon the platform was growing larger. White
faces were being pressed against the windows at the lower end of
the saloon.

"There is no question about the man having been murdered," the