“Dead?”
“Yes. Come here.”
The conductor grew pale, and got into the conveyance beside his companion.
“Look! that’s blood,” the latter said, pointing to the floor.
“You’re joking,” the other replied incredulously, bending down to examine it.
“’Pon my honour I’m not. There’s some on my hand here. Besides, his heart doesn’t beat.”
Leaning hastily forward, the conductor pressed his hand to the passenger’s breast. He quickly withdrew it, admitting that such indeed was the case.
“But what can be wrong with him, Ted? He looks like a gentleman,” he added in amazement.
“I can’t tell. In this ’ere light it’s impossible to see.”
Striking a vesta, the conductor held it close to the man’s coat. As it shed its light in fitful gleams, their eager eyes at once discerned a small hole in the breast, from which blood was slowly oozing.