They had opened her collar and taken out her hairpins, whatever
good that might do. The stout woman was vigorously rubbing her
wrists, with the idea, no doubt, of working up her pulse! The
unconscious woman was the one for whom I had secured lower eleven
at the station.

I poured a little liquor in a bungling masculine fashion between
her lips as she leaned back, with closed eyes. She choked, coughed,
and rallied somewhat.

"Poor thing," said the stout lady. "As she lies back that way I
could almost think it was my mother; she used to faint so much."

"It would make anybody faint," chimed in another. "Murder and
robbery in one night and on one car. I'm thankful I always wear
my rings in a bag around my neck--even if they do get under me
and keep me awake."

The girl in blue was looking at us with wide, startled eyes. I saw
her pale a little, saw the quick, apprehensive glance which she
threw at her traveling companion, the small woman I had noticed
before. There was an exchange--almost a clash--of glances. The
small woman frowned. That was all. I turned my attention again
to my patient.

She had revived somewhat, and now she asked to have the window
opened. The train had stopped again and the car was oppressively
hot. People around were looking at their watches and grumbling over
the delay. The doctor bustled in with a remark about its being his
busy day. The amateur detective and the porter together mounted