Chapter VII

THE MAN ON THE PLATFORM
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Tully remained in the deep sleep for another fifteen minutes. Then he stirred restlessly and Bob went over to his side. As he looked down Tully opened his eyes. They appeared clear and perfectly normal.

Tully attempted to sit up, but Bob put his hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back on the couch.

“Take it easy for a while, Tully,” he said.

“What happened?” the other demanded, and Bob noted that the words were slow and his speech thick.

Then before he could answer, Tully grunted and made a face.

“Get me some water, quick.”

Bob hastened out into the corridor where he filled a paper cup to the brim. Tully drank every drop and signaled for another cup, which Bob procured immediately.

When that was done, Tully appeared greatly refreshed.

“Help me prop this pillow up so I can sit up a little,” he urged Bob, and he was soon in a more comfortable position.

The rain still washed the windows of the car, and the porter, entering the compartment, turned on the top lights, for it was nearly dark.

Before he spoke again Tully felt inside his coat and, reassured that the documents on the jewel smuggling case were there, he looked at Bob.

“I don’t remember very much,” he said slowly, “but all of a sudden everything went dark. I felt that I was going to fall but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even reach out my hands and neither could I say a word.”

He paused and Bob felt that it would be well for him to explain what he had seen.

“You looked like you were hypnotized,” he explained. “I came over and caught you, but you were out cold. Believe me, you had us worried for a while.”

Just then the Pullman conductor looked in.

“Made up your mind about calling an ambulance at the division point?” he asked. Then he saw Tully propped into a half-way sitting position and his face brightened.

“Coming around now?”

“He’s feeling better. We’ll go right on through to Jacksonville,” said Bob and the conductor went on about his duties.

“Didn’t you think I’d come around?” asked Tully, a look of worry on his forehead.

“We didn’t know just what was happening for a while,” explained Bob. “You had us pretty badly scared.”

Tully looked thoughtful.

“I honestly don’t know what took place,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “It seemed as though blackness simply exploded in my face. Actually I believe there was some kind of a shock or blow on my face.”

“I don’t know what it could have been,” replied Bob. “Hamsa and I were the only ones with you and you had been visiting with Hamsa for some time before I came in.”

“He’s a queer duck,” muttered Tully. “I don’t know whether I could like or trust him.”

Bob had exactly the same feeling and he was interested to know Tully’s reaction to their traveling companion.

“I’m still kind of sleepy. Guess I’ll take another nap. You might tell the porter to make up my berth.”

“I’ll have him fix up lower five for you,” replied Bob. “I’ll take the upper for you probably won’t feel much like climbing in and out of a berth for the next few hours. Think you’ll want anything to eat tonight?”

“Perhaps a little soup later,” nodded Tully as he closed his eyes.

Bob remained in the compartment for several minutes until he was sure that Tully was in a deep and comfortable sleep. Then he returned to the main section of the Pullman.

As he turned in the corridor and could look down the full length of the car he thought he caught just a glimpse of Hamsa dodging out the other end of the car.

Only a few lights were on and Bob could not be sure that his eyes were not playing tricks on him. In any event he hastened his pace and when he reached the section which he and Tully occupied he drew his big Gladstone bag out from under one of the seats.

Bob breathed easier when he saw the envelope which contained the confidential information on the smuggling was just where he had left it. It had been more than a little careless of him to leave such valuable data unprotected for so long a time.

It was fully dark and Bob snapped on the individual lights in the berth and rang the buzzer for the porter, who appeared almost immediately.

Bob instructed him to make up both the lower and upper berth.

“I’m going ahead into the diner. Let me know when you’ve finished,” he said, “and also keep an eye on my friend in the smoking compartment. If he should wake up, inform me at once.”

The rush to reach the train plus the exciting events of the afternoon had made Bob ravenously hungry and when he entered the dining car he splurged by ordering a large porterhouse steak and an extra order of French fried potatoes.

The conductor had been right when he described travel on the Southern that night as light for there were only five others in the diner in addition to Bob. All of them were strangers, three of them being women and the other two rather elderly men who were engaged in an animated conversation on the economic problems of the day.

Bob summoned the steward, explained that a companion was ill, and asked that a nourishing soup be prepared for him to take back to the Pullman when he returned.

The steak, when it was brought in, was both thick and tender, and the potatoes were done just to the right crispness. It was a meal that Bob could thoroughly enjoy and he ate it in comparative leisure, relying on the Pullman porter to call him if Tully awakened.

The train slowed to a smooth halt in a North Carolina mill town and Bob looked out on the well lighted station platform. The rain was descending in torrents now and Bob knew that it might be hard to keep the Limited on the fast schedule which its time card demanded.

It was evidently a service stop for the train remained at the station for at least ten minutes. Bob, watching from the windows, could see anyone on the platform and he was startled to catch a glimpse of a man hurrying along beside the train. He had just a glimpse, but the man, short and rather bulky, was making what appeared to Bob to be an obvious effort to avoid attracting attention for he was hugging the side of the train. He was clad in a dark oilskin and a soft hat, pulled well down, shielded his face.

Bob pressed his own face against the glass and peered along the platform. Up ahead a brightly illuminated sign marked the telegraph office, and Bob saw the man hurry inside, but the distance was too great for him to see the other’s face. In less than a minute the man reappeared, but he did not come back along the train.

Then the Limited plunged southward again, beating its way into the teeth of the storm, and Bob wondered if Joe Hamsa could have been the man on the platform.

Bob finished his meal and after paying his bill went back into car 43 to see how Tully was getting along. He found him awake and ready for something to eat.

“Soup would taste good,” nodded Tully when Bob suggested it and the young federal agent returned to the diner at once. When he re-entered the car he saw Joe Hamsa seated at the far end of the diner and he was sure that he had not passed Hamsa either going or coming from car 43. That meant that Hamsa had been up ahead some place.

Bob thought the diamond salesman made a deliberate effort to avoid his eyes by staring intently through the storm-bathed windows of the car. The soup was ready and Bob followed a waiter who carried it back to the Pullman.

The train was traveling at a wild pace now and Bob almost lost his balance as he walked between the cars. As the anger of the storm deepened, he became more convinced than before that Joe Hamsa was the man he had seen on the station platform and there was something about the wildness of the night and Tully’s sudden illness that caused grave apprehension in Bob’s mind.