His eyes pained him not a little and for several minutes he could not remember where he was. Then came a faint recollection of having tried to arise during the night but of being held down.
“I must have been dreaming,” he thought. “But it was exactly as if somebody was keeping me down and holding something over my mouth and nose.”
He stretched himself and then pushed aside the berth curtain and gazed out into the aisle of the car. The porter was already at work, turning some of the berths into seats once more. Joe saw that it was daylight and consulted the nickel watch he carried.
“Eight o'clock!” he exclaimed. “I've overslept myself sure! Mr. Vane must be up long ago.”
He slipped into his clothing and then knocked on the lower berth.
He heard a deep sigh.
“Mr. Vane!”
“Eh? Oh, Joe, is that you? What time is it?”
“Eight o'clock.”
“What!” Maurice Vane started up. “I've certainly slept fast enough this trip. Are you getting hungry waiting for me?”