The conductor’s worry was reflected on his frank face. “The flagman, coming back from the head end, found the car in darkness and when he turned on the lights he almost fell over you. I was pretty worried, but the porter told me that you acted like your friend this afternoon and I knew he was coming around all right so it wasn’t as bad as it might have been.” “Just before I lost consciousness,” went on Bob, “I heard some one laugh and I would have sworn it was the voice of Hamsa, the man who has disappeared from lower nine.” “Couldn’t have been,” declared the conductor. “I’ve been all over the train and know he isn’t aboard.” “Then who could have turned off the lights in this car?” demanded Bob and the conductor shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment. “I’ll be glad when we’re at the end of the division,” he said. “This thing is getting my nerves. Next thing I’ll be seeing ghosts. You fellows must have eaten some tainted food.” “No, that’s out. Neither my companion nor I had a meal together before we got on this train this afternoon and he was taken ill before the evening meal was served in the diner.” “That’s right,” agreed the conductor. “Well, you puzzle it out. I guess that’s your profession.” Bob got to his feet. His legs were still a little shaky and the porter hurried away for more coffee. When it was brought Bob drank two more cups of the hot liquid, then he walked up and down the car several times. “If you can rustle up a sandwich out of the diner, I’ll feel better when I get some more food in my stomach,” said Bob, and the porter went out to fill his request. The conductor turned to the flagman. “Don’t leave this car again, except when you have to get off to protect the back end at flag stops,” he ordered. “I don’t want any more mysterious attacks on this train while I’m in charge of it.” Then he looked at Bob, who was still white around the lips. “Better get to bed and enjoy a few hours sleep, young man. You’re starting to look like a fish that’s been out of water too long.” “I’m coming along all right,” declared Bob. “As soon as I have a sandwich I’ll feel better. I’m convinced that Hamsa is on this train some place and I’m going to find him.” The conductor stared at Bob as though he thought the young federal agent was mentally unbalanced. Then, shaking his head and muttering to himself, he started forward to continue his greatly interrupted work on his reports. The porter came back with a tray on which were two large, thick, meat sandwiches and a glass of milk and Bob sat down in the observation car to enjoy the late lunch. The flagman, at the back end of the car, was inclined to be more talkative than the conductor. “Everyone on the train’s shaky tonight,” he confided. “We got a message we picked up on the run a few minutes ago and a fast freight that’s been coming along right after us wasn’t able to find any trace of Hamsa along the stretch of road where we know he disappeared.”