Tully opened his eyes and stared at them. It was evident that he had no idea what had happened to him. Bob, who had been somewhat concerned when he saw the sheets of Tully’s confidential report laying out in the open, now took time to look for them. They were still scattered on one of the leather benches and as far as Bob could determine they had not been disturbed. He reached out and with the sweep of one hand brushed them into a pile at one corner of the bench. Fortunately they had been turned face down, and Bob felt sure that there had been no opportunity for either Hamsa or the Pullman conductor to read the contents. Tully attempted to sit up and Bob’s attention returned to his unfortunate traveling companion. Tully still appeared shaken but his eyes were clearer and once more there was a touch of color in his cheeks. Tully signalled that he would like a drink of water and Hamsa hurried away to fill another paper cup from the tank in the vestibule. When he returned Tully took several deep draughts of the water and he appeared greatly refreshed. “I don’t know what happened,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly. “My mind seems so heavy. I can’t think.” “Better take it easy for a while,” advised Bob. “Here, stretch out on this couch. I’ll get the porter to bring you a blanket.” Bob stepped out and called the porter who was in the other end of the car, and, thus far, unaware that anything unusual had taken place in the smoking compartment. At Bob’s instructions he brought a blanket and placed it over Tully. Then he brought in a pillow and the federal agent was made as comfortable as possible. “Want me to make up a berth?” asked the porter, but Tully shook his head. “Not now. I’ll be all right here. Just let me rest.” Bob’s keen eyes roved around the smoking compartment. The papers which had been in Tully’s confidential envelope had been placed on the opposite couch, evidently by Hamsa or the Pullman conductor. Bob caught a quick glance from Tully and sensed that the other wanted the papers put away at once. The young federal agent stepped over to the leather couch, scooped up the sheets of typewritten paper, and placed them in the envelope. “Thanks,” said Tully, when Bob handed the package to him. He slipped the documents into an inner pocket of his coat, closed his eyes, and was soon in a deep sleep. This might have been alarming had not Tully’s breathing been deep and natural and the color in his cheeks more normal. “I think he’s coming around all right,” said Hamsa, who had remained in the smoking compartment. “Looks to me like it might have been an attack of acute indigestion.” “Perhaps,” agreed Bob, but for his own satisfaction he would have preferred to have a doctor examine Tully. He stepped outside into the corridor to speak to the Pullman conductor. “Do you know if there is a doctor on the train?” he asked. “I don’t believe so. We’re running light today but I’ll find out; your friend any worse?”