“Was he married?”
“I believe not. He told me that he expected to visit Dr. Leonard McLane in Washington, and said the latter was his nearest living relative. I shall wire McLane from the next station. Ah, here’s the conductor,” as that uniformed official, looking much perturbed, came in. “Did you see Dr. Shively?”
“Yes, Professor.” The conductor mopped his face with a large handkerchief. “Mr. Tilghman’s sudden taking off has been a shock. Why didn’t he mention that he was ill when I took his ticket?”
“Heaven knows!” Norcross shook his head pityingly. “We were all within call. Did he appear ill, Conductor?”
“I didn’t get a good look at his face, for his hat was pulled down low over his forehead. Judging from his attitude that he was asleep, I took pains not to disturb him, as he had told me only this morning that he hadn’t slept well on this trip, owing to a bad tooth.”
“Aside from toothache, I never heard Tilghman complain of feeling badly,” said Norcross. “He looked the picture of health, strong—wiry——”
“His scuffle this noon with the Japanese may have been more serious than we imagined,” suggested Barclay slowly. “The Jap resorted to jiu-jutsu, and it’s a nasty thing to run up against.”
“True,” agreed Norcross. “I’ve seen something of that science in the East, and have heard of men sometimes dying from apoplexy after a blow.”
“But that did not follow in this instance,” broke in Dr. Shively, joining them. “I am glad to have found you all together. Conductor, here is the key of the stateroom; I have locked Tilghman’s body in there, and have stationed the porter outside this car with instructions to let no one in until you give him permission.”
“Seems to me that’s pretty extreme,” exclaimed the conductor.