Followed by Dr.

Constantine, the detective made his way to the next car and to the
compartment occupied by the murdered man. The conductor came and unlocked the door
for them with his key.
“How much has been disarranged in this compartment?”
“Nothing has been touched. I was careful not to move the body in making my
examination.”
The window was pushed down as far as it would go, and the blind was drawn up. The
detective examined the window carefully.
“You are right,” he announced. “Nobody left the compartiment this way. Possibly
the open window was intended to suggest that somebody did, but if so, the snow has
defeated the murderer’s intention.”
He examined the frame of the window carefully. Taking a small case from his
pocket he blew a little powder over the frame.
“No fingerprints at all,” he said. “That means that it has been wiped. Well, if there
had been fingerprints they would have told us very little. They would have been those of
Mr. Ratchett or his valet or the conductor. Criminals do not make mistakes of that kind
nowadays.”
“And that being so,” he added cheerfully, “we might as well shut the window. It is
freezing in here!” He turned his attention for the first time to the motionless figure lying
in the bunk.
“I had to see the nature of the wounds, you see,” explained the doctor.
He bent over the body.
“It is not pretty,” he said. “Someone must have stood there and stabbed him again
and again. How many wounds are there exactly?”
“I make it twelve. One or two are so slight that they are practically scratches. On
the other hand, at least three would be capable of causing death.”
Something in the doctor’s tone caught the detective’s attention. He looked at him
sharply. The little Greek was standing staring down at the body with a puzzled frown.
“You can see these two wounds—here and here—” He pointed. “They are deep.
Each cut must have severed blood vessels. However, they have not bled as one would
have expected.”
“Which suggests?”
“That the man was already dead when they were delivered. But that is surely
absurd.”
“It would seem so,” said the detective thoughtfully. “Unless our murderer figured
to himself that he had not accomplished his job properly and came back to make quite
sure. But that is absurd!