Bell said, “I wonder if I might speak with Mr. Clement Price— Oh, there you are, Mr. Price,” and when Clem stepped forward, Bell thrust out his hand and said, “Good to see you again. Did you have any luck?”

“Just walked in myself,” said Price, a fit young fellow with an eye for the ladies, whom the others were a little wary of. Clem kept talking about how everybody would be better off forming a labor union, which leveler heads feared would provoke the Pullman Company to fire every last one of them, as it had done numerous times in the past.

Price addressed the room. “Mr. Bell has his eye out for a yellow-haired, green-eyed gentleman riding to New York wearing a fresh bandage on his head or neck. Such a gentleman was seen in Denver and someone similar-looking might have passed through Kansas City, but no one I saw in Chicago had seen him when Mr. Bell asked me yesterday.”

“Bandage?” echoed a sharp-eyed older man, who looked Bell over carefully and asked with a smile, “Like he ran into something?”

“Me,” said Bell, to knowing winks and laughter.

“Is he riding in the open section or a stateroom?”

“Stateroom, almost certainly,” said Bell.

The men exchanged glances, shook heads, shrugged.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“I just got off from D.C. Didn’t see him.”

“He’s traveling from the west,” said Bell. “Though he could be plying a circuitous route.”

“I just come in from Pittsburgh. Didn’t see him. Didn’t hear anyone mention him, either.”

“He would have stood out, aside from the bandage,” Bell answered. “He has unusually long arms. I was really hoping his appearance would have caused some talk. Long arms, heavy brow. And a bright smile that could sell you ice in Alaska. Here. Here’s a sketch.”

They passed it around, shaking their heads.

“Would have stood out, if folks had seen him,” the porter in from Pittsburgh ventured.

Bell said, “It is possible that he’s traveling with someone else. Possibly a doctor.”

“Doctor?”

“For his injury.”

“Well, funny you should say doctor, Mr. Bell.”

“How’s that?’ Bell asked, eagerly.

“I saw two men like you’re saying, but they weren’t on a Pullman. Least not a scheduled one.”

“He could have chartered a special.”

“It was a special I saw. Out in New Jersey, in the Elizabeth yards. They were walking by a special that had just pulled in. I thought they were tramps, but they could have got off the special. And the other fellow was carrying a little bag, that could have been a doctor’s bag.”

“Was he wearing a bandage?”

“I don’t know. But when you ask, I realize he had his collar turned up and his hat pulled low.”

“Yellow hair?”

“Hard to tell under that hat—big old slouch with a wide brim pulled down low.”

“Did you notice whose special it was?”