“No,” replied Bob sharply.
“Well, some one did. I closed it when I came along.”
A look of apprehension flitted across Bob’s face.
“Which vestibule was open?” he demanded.
“Left hand one on the car just ahead,” replied the brakeman.
Without further questioning, Bob dashed ahead, a mounting fear tugging at his heart.
The conductor and brakeman followed him through the car and out into the vestibule where the steady clacking of the trucks beneath the Pullmans filled the air.
Bob stepped across the gap into the car ahead. There was a splotch of water on the steel floor of the vestibule where the wind had lashed the rain in while the door was open.
“This the door that was open?” asked Bob.
“Right. I closed it less than a minute ago,” replied the brakeman.