He looked down again at the form in the berth, and Avery's gaze followed his; then, abruptly, it turned away. Avery stood clinging to the curtain, his eyes darting from one to another of the three men. "As he was found? When?" he demanded. "Who found him that way? When? How?" "I found him so," Connery answered. Avery said nothing more. "Will you start your examination now, Dr. Sinclair," Connery suggested. "No--I'll ask you to wait a minute." Noises were coming to them from the platforms at both ends of the car, and the doors were being tried and pounded on, as passengers attempted to pass through. Connery went to the rear, where the negro had been posted; then, repassing them, he went to the other end of the car. The noises ceased. "The Pullman conductor is forward, and the brakeman is back there now," he said, as he turned to them. "You will not be interrupted, Dr. Sinclair." "What explanation did you give them?" Eaton asked. "Why?" Connery returned. "I was thinking of Miss Dorne." "I told them nothing which could disturb her." Connery, as he spoke, pulled back the curtains, entirely exposing the berth. The surgeon, before examining the man in the berth more closely, lifted the shades from the windows. Everything about the berth was in place, undisturbed; except for the mark of the savage blow on the side of the man's head, there was no evidence of anything unusual. The man's clothes were carefully and neatly hung on the hooks or in the little hammock; his glasses were in their case beside the pillow; his watch and purse were under the pillow; the window at his feet was still raised a crack to let in fresh air while he slept. Save for the marks upon the head, the man might yet be sleeping. It was self-evident that, whatever had been the motives of the attack, robbery was not one; whoever had struck had done no more than reach in and deliver his murderous blow; then he had gone on. Connery shut the window. As the surgeon carefully and deliberately pulled back the bedclothing and exposed the body of the man clothed in pajamas, the others watched him. Sinclair made first an examination of the head; completing this, he unbuttoned the pajamas upon the chest, loosened them at the waist and prepared to make his examination of the body. "How long has he been dead?" Connery asked. "He is not dead yet." "You mean he is still dying?" "I did not say so." "You mean he is alive, then?" "Life is still present," Sinclair answered guardedly. "Whether he will live or ever regain consciousness is another question." "One you can't answer?" "The blow, as you can see,"--Sinclair touched the man's face with his deft finger-tips,--"fell mostly on the cheek and temple. The cheekbone is fractured. He is in a complete state of coma; and there may be some fracture of the skull. Of course, there is some concussion of the brain."