“He stood over a man whose head rested on the crimson cushions of the seat, but whose body lay on the floor.
“From the white lips beneath the silent spectator had proceeded the startling groan, and the eyes moved once when they caught sight of him.
“The unknown passenger regarded the scene for a moment before he stirred a limb. Then he bent over the recumbent man, and with no little difficulty assisted him to the seat.
“‘I say it’s no use after your murderous blows,’ said the stricken one, seeming to regard the new passenger as his mortal enemy. ‘You need not strike me again.’
“‘I never struck you,’ replied the passenger, with a faint smile. ‘My kind sir, you have mistaken the person. Will you not tell me how all this came about?’
“It was quite evident that the wounded traveller was near unto death. One quiver after another passed over his frame, and once or twice after speaking he gasped for breath. The single spectator saw this and put his hand on his shoulder.
“‘I will avenge you!’ he said, stooping over the dying traveller. ‘Tell me who did it; I am a detective.’
“The deathly eyes fixed their stare upon him, and when he saw the white lips move he put his ear down to them.
“‘Tell Natalie—Natalie—tell her that—God pity me!’
“With the last word the traveller’s head fell back upon the detective’s hand, and the gurgle of death ran up his throat. Then he turned his face from the light, and the rain-drops that came through a hole in the pane fell upon a dead man’s brow.