"Do it himself?" the conductor queried, after a businesslike glance
at the body.

"No, he didn't," the doctor asserted. "There's no weapon here, and
the window is closed. He couldn't have thrown it out, and he didn't
swallow it. What on earth are you looking for, man?"

Some one was on the floor at our feet, face down, head peering under
the berth. Now he got up without apology, revealing the man who
had summoned the conductor. He was dusty, alert, cheerful, and he
dragged up with him the dead man's suit-case. The sight of it
brought back to me at once my own predicament.

"I don't know whether there's any connection or not, conductor," I
said, "but I am a victim, too, in less degree; I've been robbed of
everything I possess, except a red and yellow bath-robe. I happened
to be wearing the bath-robe, which was probably the reason the thief
overlooked it."

There was a fresh murmur in the crowd. Some body laughed nervously.
The conductor was irritated.

"I can't bother with that now," he snarled. "The railroad company
is responsible for transportation, not for clothes, jewelry and
morals. If people want to be stabbed and robbed in the company's
cars, it's their affair. Why didn't you sleep in your clothes?
I do."

I took an angry step forward. Then somebody touched my arm, and I
unclenched my fist. I could understand the conductor's position,