“Did anyone enter the train yesterday at Shinglehurst?” Thorndyke asked.

“No one entered the train after it left Halbury.”

Thorndyke considered these statements in silence, and presently fell into a brown study, from which he roused only as the train moved out of Shinglehurst station.

“It would be about here that the murder was committed,” said Mr. Stopford; “at least, between here and Woldhurst.”

Thorndyke nodded rather abstractedly, being engaged at the moment in observing with great attention the objects that were visible from the windows.

“I notice,” he remarked presently, “a number of chips scattered about between the rails, and some of the chair-wedges look new.  Have there been any platelayers at work lately?”

“Yes,” answered Stopford, “they are on the line now, I believe—­at least, I saw a gang working near Woldhurst yesterday, and they are said to have set a rick on fire; I saw it smoking when I came down.”

“Indeed; and this middle line of rails is, I suppose, a sort of siding?”

“Yes; they shunt the goods trains and empty trucks on to it.  There are the remains of the rick—­still smouldering, you see.”

Thorndyke gazed absently at the blackened heap until an empty cattle-truck on the middle track hid it from view.  This was succeeded by a line of goods-waggons, and these by a passenger coach, one compartment of which—­a first-class—­was closed up and sealed.  The train now began to slow down rather suddenly, and a couple of minutes later we brought up in Woldhurst station.

It was evident that rumours of Thorndyke’s advent had preceded us, for the entire staff—­two porters, an inspector, and the station-master—­were waiting expectantly on the platform, and the latter came forward, regardless of his dignity, to help us with our luggage.

“Do you think I could see the carriage?” Thorndyke asked the solicitor.

“Not the inside, sir,” said the station-master, on being appealed to.  “The police have sealed it up.  You would have to ask the inspector.”

“Well, I can have a look at the outside, I suppose?” said Thorndyke, and to this the station-master readily agreed, and offered to accompany us.

“What other first-class passengers were there?” Thorndyke asked.

“None, sir.  There was only one first-class coach, and the deceased was the only person in it.  It has given us all a dreadful turn, this affair has,” he continued, as we set off up the line.  “I was on the platform when the train came in.  We were watching a rick that was burning up the line, and a rare blaze it made, too; and I was just saying that we should have to move the cattle-truck that was on the mid-track, because, you see, sir, the smoke and sparks were blowing across, and I thought it would frighten the poor beasts.  And Mr. Felton he don’t like his beasts handled roughly.  He says it spoils the meat.”