"You have no objection to my taking a list of the articles in the berth?" Avery seemed to oppose; then, apparently, he recognized that this was an obvious part of the conductor's duty. "None at all," he replied. Connery gathered up the clothing, the glasses, the watch and purse, and laid them on the seat across the aisle. Sitting down, then, opposite them, he examined them and, taking everything from the pockets of the clothes, he began to catalogue them before Avery. In the coat he found only the card-case, which he noted without examining its contents, and in the trousers a pocket-knife and bunch of keys. He counted over the gold and banknotes in the purse and entered the amount upon his list. "You know about what he had with him?" he asked. "Very closely. That is correct. Nothing is missing," Avery answered. The conductor opened the watch. "The crystal is missing." Avery nodded. "Yes; it always--that is, it was missing yesterday." Connery looked up at him, as though slightly puzzled by the manner of the reply; then, having finished his list, he rejoined the surgeon. Sinclair was still bending over the naked torso. With Eaton's help, he had turned the body upon its back in order to look at its right side, which before had been hidden. It had been a strong, healthy body; Sinclair guessed its age at fifty. As a boy, the man might have been an athlete,--a college track-runner or oarsman,--and he had kept himself in condition through middle age. There was no mark or bruise upon the body, except that on the right side and just below the ribs there now showed a scar about an inch and a half long and of peculiar crescent shape. It was evidently a surgical scar and had completely healed. Sinclair scrutinized this carefully and then looked up to Avery. "He was operated on recently?" "About two years ago." "For what?" "It was some operation on the gall-bladder." "Performed by Kuno Garrt?" Avery hesitated. "I believe so." He watched Sinclair more closely as he continued his examination; the surgeon had glanced quickly at the face on the pillow and seemed about to question Avery again; but instead he laid the pajama jacket over the body and drew up the sheet and blanket. Connery touched the surgeon on the arm. "What must be done, Doctor? And where and when do you want to do it?" Sinclair, however, it appeared, had not yet finished his examination. "Will you pull down the window-curtains?" he directed. As Connery, reaching across the body, complied, the surgeon took a matchbox from his pocket, and glancing about at the three others as though to select from them the one most likely to be an efficient aid, he handed it to Eaton. "Will you help me, please?" "What is it you want done?" "Strike a light and hold it as I direct--then draw it away slowly." He lifted the partly closed eyelid from one of the eyes of the unconscious man and nodded to Eaton: "Hold the light in front of the pupil."