“Prisoner?” he asked.
“No. He’s a federal agent like myself. Sometime after he was stricken this afternoon an envelope containing valuable information was taken from him and worthless papers substituted.”
“You’re not suspecting me of this, are you?” asked the conductor and there was such pathetic anxiety in his voice that Bob felt that the man was innocent of any wrong doing.
“I’m not suspecting or accusing anyone at present,” replied Bob. “I simply want to know if you saw anything unusual going on in this car at any time while I was in the diner and while my companion was asleep on the couch in the compartment ahead.”
The conductor shook his head.
“I was through the car twice,” he said, “and the only one here was the man who had lower nine. The first time he was in his seat and the second time he was near the rear vestibule. He had on a slicker and had the upper part of the door open.”
“When was that?” The question shot eagerly from Bob’s lips.
“Just before our last stop at Atkinson where we took on coal and water,” replied the conductor. “I didn’t notice him again until up in the diner a few minutes ago.”
“The vestibule door was opened by someone while we were in Atkinson,” put in the porter.
“Then lower nine’s passenger must have taken a walk. Fine night for a thing like that,” said the conductor. “Come to think of it, I did see his slicker on another chair in the diner.”