e shadow of
a policeman, with his head buried in his hands, and he did not once look
up. Some of the more adventurous tried to peer through the windows at
the lower end of the saloon. Others rushed off to interview the guard.
In a very few minutes, however, the station-master reappeared upon the
scene, accompanied by the doctor. The little crowd stood on one side and
the two men stepped into the car.

The doctor proceeded at once with his examination. Mr. Hamilton Fynes,
this mysterious person who had succeeded, indeed, in making a record
journey, was leaning back in the corner of his seat, his arms folded,
his head drooping a little, but his eyes still fixed in that unseeing
stare. His body yielded itself unnaturally to the touch. For the main
truth the doctor needed scarcely a glance at him.

"Is he dead?" the station-master asked.

"Stone-dead!" was the brief answer.

"Good God!" the station-master muttered. "Good God!"

The doctor had thrown his handkerchief over the dead man's face. He was
standing now looking at him thoughtfully.

"Did he die in his sleep, I wonder?" the station-master asked. "It must
have been horribly sudden! Was it heart disease?"

The doctor did not reply for a moment. He seemed to be thinking out some
problem.

"The body had better be removed to the station mortuary," he said 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