The attendant clutched at his arm nervously.

He was a pale, anaemic-looking little person at any time, but his face just now was positively ghastly.
"What on earth is the matter with you ?" the station-master asked brusquely.
"There's something wrong with my passenger, sir," the man declared in a shaking voice.

"I can't make him answer me.

He won't look up, and I don't--I don't think he's asleep.

An hour ago I took him some whiskey.
He told me not to disturb him again--he had some papers to go through." The station-master leaned over the table.