The car had been cleared of other passengers, they had been removed to the car ahead.

  Dr. Schilling moved quietly down the aisle and looked down at the weakly crying girl. Without a word he opened his physician’s bag, removed a small bottle, sent Lord for a cup of water, and applied the open bottle to the girl’s quivering nostrils. She gasped, blinked, shuddered away. When Lord returned with the water she drank greedily, like a thirsty child. The doctor patted her head and forced something down her throat. In a few moments she had calmed and lay, eyes closed, with her head in Lord’s lap.

  Thumm sank into one of the green plush seats and stretched his legs. Bruno brooded over him. He beckoned to Brooks and Ahearn, who rose wearily. Both men were white with strain. On being questioned by the District Attorney, Brooks told briefly of the celebration party at the hotel, the trip to Weehawken, the wait in the terminal, the boarding of the train, the approach of Collins.

  “How was DeWitt?” asked Bruno. “Cheerful?”

  “Never more cheerful in his life.”

  “I’ve never seen him happier,” put in Ahearn in a low voice. “The trial, the suspense - and then the verdict… When I think that he was saved from the electric-chair for this…” He shivered.

  A flash of anger crossed the lawyer’s face. “Certainly the most devastating proof of DeWitt’s innocence, Mr. Bruno. If you hadn’t arrested him on that preposterous charge, he’d probably be alive today!”

  Bruno was silent. Then - “Where is Mrs. DeWitt?”

  “She wasn’t with the party,” said Ahearn shortly.

  “This will be good news for her,” said Brooks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She can’t be divorced now,” replied Brooks in a dry voice.

  The District Attorney and Thumm exchanged glances. “Then she wasn’t on the train at all?” asked Bruno.

  “Not so far as I know.” Brooks turned away. Ahearn shook his head, and Bruno looked at Lane, who shrugged.

  At this moment a detective reported with the information that Collins was nowhere to be found.

  “Here! Where the devil are those conductors?” Thumm waved the blue- clad men toward him. “Bottomley, did you see a tall red-faced Irishman - remember collecting his ticket tonight?”

  “He was wearing,” said Lane quietly, “a felt hat pulled rakishly down over his eyes, a tweed topcoat, and he was slightly intoxicated.”

  Old Bottomley shook his head. “Pretty sure I didn’t take his ticket. You, Ed?”

  The junior conductor shook his head.

  Thumm roused himself. He stamped to the forward coach and began to thunder questions at the few passengers who had been seated in the same car with the DeWitt party. No one recalled Collins, or anything about his movements. Thumm returned and sat down again. “Remember, anybody, if Collins came back through this car?”

  Lane said: “I’m sure he did not, Inspector. In all probability he slipped off the train from one of the two platforms in the rear. It would be simple enough to open one of the doors and jump off. I am certain that we stopped somewhere between the time DeWitt and Collins disappeared and the time of the tragedy.”

  Thumm demanded a time-table from the old conductor and studied it. By comparing various items of schedule, he concluded that it was possible for Collins to have slipped off the train when it stopped at either Little Ferry, Ridgefield Park, Westview, or even Bogota.

  “Okay,” he said, and turned to one of his men. “Take a couple of the boys and retrace the route through these stations. Pick up Collins’s trail. He must have got off at one of ’em and left some kind of sign behind. Report to me by phone to the Teaneck station.”

  “Right.”

  “And it doesn’t look as if he could have got a train going back to New York at that hour. So don’t forget to question the taxi-drivers around the stations.”

  The detective left.

  “Now men,” said Thumm to the two conductors, “think hard. Did any passengers get off the train at Little Ferry, Ridgefield Park, West view, or Bogota?”

  The conductors replied promptly that several passengers had detrained at each of the cited local stops, but neither recalled their number or identities.

  “Might recognize some of ’em, maybe,” drawled Pop Bottomley, “if we saw ’em, but we wouldn’t know their names even if they were regular passengers.”

  “Wouldn’t know the others at all,” volunteered Thompson. Bruno said: “You know, Thumm, it would have been possible for the murderer as well as Collins to have slipped off the train at a station without being seen. All anyone had to do was wait until the train stopped at the station, open the door facing not the station but the tracks, and hop off, closing the door behind him from below. After all, there are only two conductors on this train, and they couldn’t keep track of every exit.”

  “Sure. Anybody could have done it. I’d like,” growled Thumm, “to run across one bump-off where the murderer is found standing over the body with the gun in his hand… And where the hell is that gun? Duffy! Find a revolver in that car back there?”

  The sergeant shook his head.

  “Search the whole shooting-match. It’s possible that the guy who did it left the gun on the train.”

  “I suggest,” said Lane, “that you send men to search the route we have traversed, Inspector. For it is also possible that the murderer threw the revolver from the train and that it fell to the tracks somewhere.”

  “Good idea. Duffy, take care of that.”

  The sergeant stumped off.

  “Now,” continued Thumm, passing one hand wearily over his forehead, “now for the dirty work.” He glared at the six members of the DeWitt party. “Imperiale! Step over here, will you?”

  The Swiss heaved to his feet and approached with lagging steps. Fatigue had darkened the area of his eyes, and even his Vandyke was in a bedraggled state.

  “Matter of form,” said Thumm with heavy sarcasm. “What were you doing on this trip? Where were you sitting?”

  “I sat with Miss DeWitt and Mr. Lord for a time; then, seeing that they preferred to be alone, I excused myself and moved away. I must have dozed off. The next thing I remember, Mr. Lane was standing in the doorway and the two conductors were running past me.”

  “Dozing?”

  Imperiale’s eyebrows went up. “Yes,” he said with sharpness. “Do you doubt my word? The ferry and trainride had induced a headache.”

  “Oh, yes,” jeered Thumm. “So you couldn’t tell us what the others were doing, hey?”

  “I am sorry. I was asleep.”

  Thumm brushed by the Swiss and walked to the seat in which Lord held Jeanne in his arms. He leaned over and tapped the girl’s shoulder. Lord looked up angrily; Jeanne raised a tear-stained face.

  “Sorry to trouble you, Miss DeWitt,” said Thumm gruffly, “but it would help me if you answered a question or two.”

  “Are you crazy, man?” snapped Lord. “Can’t you see she’s in a state of exhaustion?”

  Thumm stared him into silence. Jeanne whispered: “Anything. Anything, Inspector. Only find - find out who…

  “Leave that to us, Miss DeWitt. Do you recall what you and Mr. Lord were doing after the train left Weehawken?”

  She looked at him blankly, only half-comprehending. “We were - we were together most of the time. At first Mr. Imperiale sat with us, then he went off somewhere. We talked. And all the time…” She bit her lip; tears sprang into her eyes.

  “Yes, Miss DeWitt?”

  “Kit left me once. I remained alone for a few minutes…

  “Left you, did he? That’s fine. And where did he go?” Thumm glanced slyly at the young man, who sat in perfect silence.

  “Oh, just out that door.” She pointed vaguely at the front door of the car, forward. “Didn’t say where he was going. Or did you, Kit?”

  “No, darling.”

  “Did you see Mr. Imperiale after he left you and Lord?”

  “Once, while Kit was away. I turned around and saw him a few seats back, dozing. I also saw Mr. Ahearn walking up and down. Then Kit came back.”

  “When was this?”

  She sighed. “I don’t remember exactly.”

  Thumm straightened. “I’d like to speak to you aside, Lord… Here, Imperiale! Or Doc Schilling. Will you please sit with Miss DeWitt for a moment?”

  Lord rose reluctantly, and the stubby little Medical Examiner took the seat. He began at once to speak to the girl in a conversational tone.

  The two men went up the aisle. “Now Lord,” said Thumm, “come clean. Where’d you go?”

  “It’s quite a story, Inspector,” replied the young man steadily. “While we were coming over on the ferry I happened to notice something - well, queer. I caught sight of Cherry Browne, and that seedy boy-friend of hers, Pollux, on the same boat.”

  “No kidding!” Thumm nodded slowly. “Hey, Bruno. Come here a minute.” The District Attorney complied. “Lord says he saw Cherry Browne and Pollux on the ferry tonight, coming over.” Bruno whistled.

  “That’s not all, either,” continued Lord. “I caught sight of them again in the terminal. Near the piers. They were arguing about something. I kept my eyes open after that because - well, it looked damned fishy to me. I didn’t see them in the waiting-room, and I watched when we got on the train, although I don’t remember seeing them get on, either. Anyway, when the train started I became uneasy.”

  “Why?”

  Lord scowled. “That Browne woman is a tartar. I didn’t know what she might be up to, considering the wild accusations she made against DeWitt during the Longstreet investigation. Anyway, I excused myself from Jeanne; I wanted to make absolutely sure they weren’t on the train. I looked, and they weren’t. So I came back, feeling better.”

  “Did you look in that rear car?”

  “God, no! How could I think they were there?”

  “Near what station was this?”

  Lord shrugged. “Hanged if I know. I didn’t notice.”

  “Did you see what anyone else was doing when you came back?”

  “Well, I seem to recall Ahearn walking back and forth both times, and I remember seeing Mr. Lane and Brooks talking.”

  “Did you notice Imperiale when they came back?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  “All right. Get back to Miss DeWitt; I guess she needs you.”

  Lord hastened away, and Bruno and Thumm conversed in low tones for a few moments. Then Thumm beckoned a detective on guard at the forward door. “Tell Duffy to search the train for Cherry Browne and Pollux - he knows their faces.” The detective went away. In a short time the bulky figure of Sergeant Duffy barged into the car. “Nothing doing, Inspector. They aren’t here. And nobody remembers seeing two people of their description.”

  “All right, Duffy, that makes it your assignment. Get somebody on it right away. Better do it yourself, at that. Shoot back to town and see if you can pick up their trail. The woman lives at the Hotel Grant. If they’re not there, try some night-clubs, a couple of Pollux’s hangouts. They might be in a speak. Phone me when you get a lead, and stay on it all night if necessary.” Sergeant Duffy grinned and swung off.

  “Now then, Brooks.” Thumm and the District Attorney walked back up the aisle. Brooks and Lane were sitting together, Brooks staring out of the window at the trainyards, Lane with his head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed. They opened and flashed with remarkable brilliancy as Thumm sat down opposite. Bruno had hesitated, then retreated to the van of the coach, going to the car ahead.

  “How about you, Brooks?” asked Thumm heavily. “God, I’m tired. This damned thing routed me out of bed. - Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “What were you doing on this trip?”

  “I didn’t leave this seat until Mr. Lane got up to investigate the continued absence of DeWitt and Collins.”

  Thumm looked at Lane, and Lane nodded. “That’s Jake for you, then.” He twisted his head. “Ahearn!” The elderly man plodded up. “What were you doing all the time after the train started?”

  Ahearn laughed without humor. “The ancient game of hide-and-seek, eh, Inspector? Nothing extraordinary. Mr. Lane, Mr. Brooks, and I engaged in general discussion for some time. Then I felt like stretching my legs and got up. Walked around, up and down the aisle. That’s all.”

  “Notice anything? Did you see anyone through the rear door of the car?”

  “Frankly, I wasn’t watching. I saw nothing suspicious, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Did you see anything?” cried Thumm in an exasperated voice.

  “Nothing in that direction, Inspector. Nor anything else, for that matter. In fact, I was thinking out a rather unique gambit.”

  “A what?”

  “A gambit. A series of chess moves, Inspector.”

  “Oh. You’re the chess shark. Okay, Ahearn.” Thumm turned his head to find Lane’s gray eyes regarding him with curiosity.

  “And of course, Inspector,” Lane was saying, “you must question me also.” Thumm snorted. “If you saw anything in this car, you’d tell us. No, you’re wrong there, Mr. Lane.”

  “As a matter of fact,” murmured Lane, “I have never felt more humiliated, more abased in my life. To allow this dreadful thing to happen, virtually under my nose… He regarded his hands thoughtfully. “So near… He looked up. “Unfortunately, I became so absorbed in my pleasant discussion with Mr. Brooks that I noticed nothing. I was increasingly anxious, however, and it was this anxiety that prompted me to get up later and investigate the dark car.”

  “You didn’t keep tabs on everything in this car, I suppose?”

  “To my everlasting shame, Inspector, I did not.”

  Thumm got to his feet. The District Attorney came into the car, leaned against the seat across the aisle.

  “I’ve just been quizzing the other passengers,” he said. “No one who was in this car remembers a thing, or recalls who passed up the aisle and who didn’t. I never saw such an unobservant bunch. As for the passengers in the other cars, they’re useless. Hell.”

  “Well, we’ll take their names, anyway.” Thumm moved away and began to issue orders. The rest of the party kept silent until he returned; Lane was sitting in his habitual attitude of concentration, with closed eyes.

  A man ran up to the Inspector. “A lead, Chief!” he cried. “Just got a call from one of the gang that Collins has been traced!”

  The heavy air was suddenly surcharged with sparks. “Good boy,” cried Thumm. “What’s the lay?”

  “He was seen at Ridgefield Park. He hired a hack and headed toward New York. One of the boys called from the City, because he figured Collins went back home, and sure enough Collins had got in a few minutes before. Looks like the taxi took him straight home. The boys will get the driver later - he hadn’t got back yet. They’re watching outside Collins’s apartment. Want orders.”

  “Fine, fine. Is he still on the phone?”

  “One of ’em is.”

  ‘Tell him to leave Collins alone unless he tries to sneak off. I’ll be there myself in an hour or so. But tell him he can give up his shield if that Irish mug gets away!”

  The detective hurried out of the train. Thumm pounded the floor with his huge feet, gleefully. Another detective came in. Thumm looked up with anticipation.

  “Well?”

  The man shook his head. “The boys haven’t located that gat yet. It’s nowhere on the train. We’ve pawed all over the passengers, too, and nothing doing. Haven’t heard anything yet from the boys searching the tracks down the line. They’re trying, but it’s dark as hell.”

  “Keep at it… Duffy!” Vast surprise leaped into Thumm’s face. For the square figure of Sergeant Duffy, who was supposed to be heading for New York City, lurched into the car. “Duffy! What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  Duffy took off his cap and swabbed his perspiring brow; but he was grinning. “Did a little detective work myself, Chief. I thought, seeing as how this Browne dame hangs out at the Grant, I’d phone the desk there and find out if she was in, before I beat it. Knew you’d be leaving soon - wanted to get the info for you if I could before you headed back.”

  “Well, well?”

  “She clicked, Chief!” roared Duffy. “She’s there, and I’ll be a three-horned son-of-a-bull if that guy Pollux didn’t come in with her!”

  “When?”

  “Clerk at the desk says they checked in a few minutes before 1 called, and they both went up to her rooms.”

  “Were they seen leaving?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good work. We’ll stop there on our way to Collins’s joint. You beat it to the Grant and keep an eye out. Grab a cab.”

  As Sergeant Duffy plowed out of the car, he encountered a group of new figures. Men were pouring into the coach, led by a medium-sized tow-headed man. “Here! Where you goin’?” growled Duffy.

  “One side, officer. I’m the District Attorney of this county.” Duffy cursed and swung off the train. Bruno hurried forward and the tow-headed man shook his hand briefly. He introduced himself as District Attorney Kohl of Bergen County, routed out of bed, he complained, by a message from Bruno. Bruno led Kohl back to the rear car, where Kohl examined DeWitt’s now stark body. They became involved in a polite discussion as to legal jurisdiction.

  Bruno pointed out that while DeWitt had been murdered in Bergen County, his murder was unquestionably related to the Wood killing in Hudson County and the Longstreet killing in New York County. They stared at each other.

  Kohl threw up his hands. “The next one, I suppose, will be in ’Frisco. All right, Bruno. It’s your case, I guess. I’ll help all I can.”

  They retraced their steps. The cars suddenly became the swirling center of a violent commotion. A New Jersey hospital ambulance discharged two internes, and under the supervision of Dr. Schilling, DeWitt’s corpse was carried out of the train. The Medical Examiner waved a weary farewell and went off with the ambulance.

  In the train, the entire company of passengers were herded together, severely lectured by Inspector Thumm, their names and addresses checked; and they were released. A special train for their use had been pressed into service by railroad officials, and roared out of Teaneck.