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The Man in Lower Ten

Chapter 3 ACROSS THE AISLE

Word Count: 1521    |    Released on: 28/11/2017

oss had apparently strangled, or turned over, and so after a time I

e wound, which was bleeding a little. Still drowsy, I felt more cautiously for what I supposed had been my scarf pin, but there was nothing there. Wide awake now, I reach

house and enough energy to have built one. The bag I held in my hand was a black one, sealskin, I think. The stagger

ns obsequiously. McKnight objects that nobody can poke his head t

changing my valise for this one? You'll have to find it if you wake

from an upper berth near-by. "Po

aid savagely. "You fi

ith injured dignity. "I brought in your ov

ugh then. I was simply a victim of the usual sleeping-car robbery. I was in a lather of perspiration by that time: the lady down the car was still dangling an

ore cheerful, having been absolved of responsibility. "Reckon

you find it," I said. "A hundr

ook at the foot of my berth. From the coat they traveled, dazed, to the soft-bosomed shirt

ng his teeth. But I caught him by the a

's that coat?" I

tone was one of

he tro

d up one creased leg. "

re blue!" The porter was amused: he dived under the curtains and brought up a pair of

. And not only were the shoes the porter lifted from the floor of a gorgeous shade of yellow, but the scarf which was run through the turned over collar was

"They are some other fellow's. I'll sit he

t in, eying the red tie with appreciation. "A

a possible explanation occurred to me. "O

you cain't wea

simple enough. I'm in the wrong berth, that's all. My bert

and the other gentleman just got mixed in the night. That's

was number seven's berth, that was his soft hat, this his umbr

d hear his softly insinuating voice. "Time t

I guessed that he had opened the curtain

ne's empty

aren't there?" I demanded. "My

etorted. "There ain't nothin'

he edge of the berth and put on the obnoxious tan shoes. The porter, called to his duties, made little excursions back to me, to offer assistance and to chuckle at

ecome them any more than you do," he sai

hes," I retorted grimly, "he will n

ound myself facing a young woman in blue with an unforgettable face. ("Three women already." McKnight says: "That's going some, even if you don't count the Gilmore nurse.") She stood, half-turned toward me, one hand idly drooping, the other steadying her as she gazed out at the flying landscape. I had an instant impression that I had met her somewhere, under different circumstances, more cheerful ones, I

e play. And for a while we would all say our little speeches and sing our litt

ed at me over his shoulder; then he unfastened the curtains and bent forward. Behind him, I saw him stiffen, heard his muttered excla

he light did not disturb him. A small stain of red dyed the front of his night clothes and tra

where the train imparted to the body a grisly suggestion o

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