“Perhaps,” agreed Bob, but for his own satisfaction he would have preferred to have a doctor examine Tully. He stepped outside into the corridor to speak to the Pullman conductor.
“Do you know if there is a doctor on the train?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so. We’re running light today but I’ll find out; your friend any worse?”
“No. He’s better, but I’d like to find out just what happened to him.”
“I can wire ahead and have an ambulance meet us at the next division point,” suggested the conductor.
“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” replied Bob. “We’re anxious to get to Jacksonville on this train. However, I wish you would ascertain if there is a doctor aboard.”
As the trainman hurried away, Bob stepped back into the smoking compartment. There was something definitely puzzling and disturbing about the sudden illness which had overtaken Tully, for the latter was usually in the best of health.
Bob thought back over the days of their association in the archives division of the War Department, trying to remember if Tully had ever been the subject of sudden fainting spells. As far as he could recall, nothing like this had occurred before, which did not make his mind rest any easier.
Hamsa wandered out of the smoking compartment and Bob and Tully were alone. Half an hour slipped by and Tully remained in the deep sleep.
The train had stopped once, a long halt for coal and water, and it was after it resumed motion that the Pullman conductor returned to the compartment.