"What was this passenger like?"
"Quite easily recognised, sir; a man of about sixty, rather stout, and wearing whiskers."
"That tallies with the description. Might he have been a butler or a steward?"
"That is exactly what he looked like."
"Then that must be the man whose body has been found upon the line. But I do not know whether it is to be regarded as a case of suicide or of murder, for some hand baggage has been picked up as well: a suicide would not have thrown his luggage out, and a thief would not have wanted to get rid of it."
The passenger who had not yet spoken, broke in.
"You are wrong, sir; at any rate all his luggage was not thrown on to the line," and he pointed to the bundle left upon the seat. "I thought that belonged to the gentleman here, but he has just told me it isn't his."
The official rapidly unfastened the straps and started back.
"Hullo! A bottle of liquid carbonic acid! Now what does that mean?" He looked at it. "Did this bundle belong to the man who disappeared?"
The two passengers shook their heads.