by his side, and as the driver relaxed his hold, he swayed forward, and, before the mishap could be prevented, fell heavily upon the cushions opposite, and rolled upon the floor.
"He must be ill," the driver exclaimed to himself in alarm.
Then stooping, he seized the prostrate man round the waist, and with some difficulty succeeded in dragging him to his feet and replacing him upon the seat.
As he did so he felt his fingers come into contact with some wet, sticky substance. Holding his hand against the dim oil lamp, he examined it closely.
"Blood, by God!" he gasped.
Glancing quickly down at the feet of the inanimate man, he noticed for the first time a small, dark pool, beside which lay a white handkerchief.
In a moment the terrible truth dawned upon him.
Vaguely apprehensive of foul play, he pulled aside the overcoat, and placed his hand upon the heart of the prostrate man.
There was no movement.
"Hullo, Teddy, what's up? Any one would think you were robbing the chap," shouted a voice jocosely at the door.
The driver started, and, looking up, saw his conductor who, having taken a shorter route than the omnibus by walking along Pall Mall, across the north side of Trafalgar Square, and entering Duncannon Street from the opposite end, had just arrived.
"Bill," replied the driver in an awe-stricken tone, his face wearing a scared look, "there's something wrong here. I believe the gent's dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes. Come here."
