"I knew that the man who had been shot was Mr. Warren. I didn't know what to do. I felt suddenly lost; hopeless--And watching, I saw one figure stoop and lift the prostrate man. He dragged him across the tracks to the inky darkness between the Pullman offices and the rear of the baggage room. I don't know what he did there--but I remember looking toward Atlantic Avenue and seeing a yellow taxicab parked against the curb. I could see that there was no one in the driver's seat--and while I watched I saw the man who had done the shooting drag Mr. Warren's body to the taxicab. It was dark in the street--the arc light on the corner was out-- "I saw him throw Mr. Warren's body into the taxicab. It was then that I turned and fled toward the station. "I can't tell you how I felt. At a time like that one doesn't pause to analyze one's emotional reactions. I was conscious of horror--of that and the idea that I must save myself. And then the thought struck me that perhaps Mr. Warren was _not_ dead. Perhaps he was only badly wounded. If that were the case I knew that he would freeze to death in the cab. It was necessary to get to him-- "By that time I had reached the waiting room. I saw his suit-case--and then, Mr. Carroll--I thought of something else: something which made it imperative that I get to Mr. Warren--" She stopped suddenly. Carroll--eyes wide with interest--motioned her on. "You thought of something--something which made it necessary for you to get to him?" "Yes. I remembered that he had in his pocket the check for my suit-case! He had checked it himself that day. I realized in a flash that there would be a police investigation--and the minute that checkroom stub was found, the detectives would have followed it up. They would have discovered my suit-case. My name would then have been indelibly linked with his--in--in that way-- "So there were two reasons why I knew I must get into that taxicab: to recover the suit-case check--and to either assure myself that he was dead, or else take him where he could get expert medical attention. Almost before I knew what I was doing I seized his suit-case, which he had left on the floor of the waiting room. I left the station along with several passengers who had come in on the local train. I called the taxicab--I told him to drive me to some place on East End Avenue--gave him some address which I knew was a long distance away--so that I would have time to learn if he was dead--and if he wasn't, to get him to a doctor's; and if he was, to find the check--the finding of which in his pocket would have connected me with the affair. "He was dead!" She paused--choked--and went on gamely. "I got out of the taxicab when it slowed down at a railroad crossing. I walked half the distance back to town, then caught the last street car home--" Her voice died away. Carroll relaxed slowly. Then a puzzled frown creased his forehead--