The Lost Special by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The confession of Herbert de Lernac,
now lying under sentence of death at Marseilles, has thrown a light upon
one of the most inexplicable crimes of the century, an incident which is I
believe absolutely unprecedented in the criminal annals of any country. Although there is a
reluctance to discuss the matter in official circles, and little information has been given
to the press, there are still indications that the statement of this arch criminal
is corroborated by the facts, and that we have at last found a solution
for a most astonishing business. As the matter is eight years old, and
as its importance was somewhat obscured by a political crisis which was engaging the public
attention at the time, it may be as well to state the fact as
far as we have been able to ascertain them. They are collated from the
Liverpool papers of that date, from the proceedings at the inquest upon John Slatter,
the engine driver, and from records of the London and West Coast Railway
Company, which had been courteously put at my disposal. Briefly, they are
as follows on the third of June eighteen ninety a gentleman who gave his name
as Monsieur Louis Caratal desired an interview with mister James Bland, the superintendent of
the London and West Coast Central Station in Liverpool. He was a small man,
middle aged and dark, with stoop which was so marked that it suggested
some deformity of the spine. He was accompanied by a friend, a man
of imposing physique, whose deferential manner and constant attention showed that his position was
one of dependents. His friend or companion, whose name did not transpire,
was certainly a foreigner, and probably from his swarthy complexion, either a Spaniard
or a South American. One peculiarity was observed in him. He carried in
his left hand a small black leather despatch box, and it was noticed by
a sharp eyed clerk in the central office that this box was fastened to his
wrist by a strap. No importance was attached to the fact at the time,
but subsequent events endowed it with some significance. Monsieur Carrettal was shown up
to mister Bland's office, while his companion remained outside. Mister Bland struck the
electric bell, summoned mister potter Hood, the traffic manager, and had the
matter arranged in five minutes. The train would start in three quarters of an
hour. It would take that time to ensure that the line should be clear.
The powerful engine, called Roachdale number two forty seven on the company's register,
was attached to two carriages, with a guard's van behind. The first
carriage was solely for the purpose of decreasing the inconvenience arising from the oscillation.
The second was divided as usual into four compartments, a first class, a
first class smoking, a second class and a second class smoking. The first
compartment, which was nearest to the engine, was the one allotted to the
travelers. The other three were empty. The guard of the special train was
James mc pherson, who had been some years in the service of the company.
The stoker, William Smith, was a new hand Monsieur Carettel. Upon
leaving the superintendent's office, rejoined his companion, and both of them manifested extreme
impatience to be off. Having paid the money asked, which amounted to fifty
pounds five shillings at the usual special rate of five shillings a mile, they
demanded to be shown the carriage, and at once took their seats in it,
although they were assured that the better part of an hour must elapse before
the line could be cleared. In the meantime, a singular coincidence had occurred
in the office which Monsieur Carretel had just quitted. A request for a special
is not a very uncommon circumstance in a rich commercial center, but the two
should be required upon the same afternoon was most unusual. It so happened,
however, that mister Bland had hardly dismissed the first traveler before a second entered
with a similar request. This was a mister Horace Moore, a gentlemanly man
of military appearance, who alleged that the sudden serious illness of his wife in
London made it absolutely imperative that he should not lose an instant in starting upon
the journey. His distress and anxiety were so evident that mister Bland did all
that was possible to meet his wishes. A second special was out of the
question, as the ordinary local service was already somewhat deranged by the first.
There was the alternative, however, that mister Moore should share the expense of
Monsieur Carretel's train, and should travel in the other empty first class compartment,
if Monsieur Carretel objected to having him in the one which he occupied. It
was difficult to see any objection to such an arrangement. And yet Monsieur Carretel,
upon the suggestion being made to him by mister potter Hood, absolutely refused
to consider it for an instant. The train was his, he said,
and he would insist upon the exclusive use of it. All argument failed to
overcome his ungracious objections, and finally the pl had to be abandoned. Mister
Horace Moore left the station in great distress after learning that his only course was
to take the ordinary slow train which leaves Liverpool at six o'clock. At four
thirty one, exactly by the station clock, the special train containing the crippled
Monsieur Carattel and his gigantic companion steamed out of the Liverpool station. The line
was at that time clear and there should have been no stoppage. Before Manchester.
The trains of the London and West Coast Railway run over the lines of
another company as far as this town, which should have been reached by a
special rather before six o'clock. At a quarter after six, considerable surprise and
some consternation were caused amongst the officials at Liverpool by the receipt of a telegram
from Manchester to say that it had not yet arrived. An inquiry directed to
Saint Helens, which is a third of the way between the two cities,
elicited the following reply to James Bland, Superintendent Central l and W see Liverpool
Special passed here at four fifty two, well up to time, Dowster Saint
Helen's. This telegram was received at six forty. At six fifty a second
message was received from Manchester, no sign of special as advised by you,
and then ten minutes later a third more bewildering. Presume some mistake as to
propose running of special local train from Saint Helen's. Time to follow. It
has just arrived and has seen nothing of it. Kindly, wire advises Manchester.
The matter was assuming a most amazing aspect, although in some respects the
last telegram was a relief to the authorities at Liverpool. If an accident had
occurred at the special, it seemed hardly possible that the local train could have
passed down the same line without observing it, And yet what was the alternative?
Where could the train be had it possibly been sidetracked for some reason in
order to allow the slower train to go past. Such an explanation was possible
if some small repair had to be effected. A telegram was despatched to each
of the stations between Saint Helens and Manchester, and the superintendent and traffic manager
waited, in the utmost suspense at the instrument for the series of replies which
would enable them to say for certain what had become of the missing train.
The answers came back in the order of questions, which was the order of
the stations, beginning at Saint Helen's End. Special Past here five o'clock,
Collins Green Special Past here, six past five, Earlstown Special Past here five
ten, Newton Special Past here five twenty Kenyon Junction. No special train has
passed here. Barton Moss. The two officials stared at each other in amazement.
This is unique in my thirty years of experience, mister Plann said,
absolutely unprecedented and inexplicable, Sir, The special has gone wrong between Kenyon Junction
and Barton Mosse, and yet there is no siding so far as my memory,
Sir has made between the two stations. The Special must have run off
the metals. But how could the four fifty Parliamentary pass over the same line
without observing it. There is no alternative, mister Hood. It must be
so. Possibly the local train may have observed something which may throw some light
upon the matter. We'll wire to Manchester for more information, and to Kenyon
Junction with instructions that the line be examined instantly as far as Barton Moss.
The answer from Manchester came within a few minutes. No news of missing special,
driver and guard of slow train positive. No accident between Kenyon Junction and
Barton Moss line quite clear, and no sign of anything unusual. Manchester,
that driver and guard will have to go, said mister Bland grimly. There
has been a wreck and they have missed it. The Special has obviously run
off the metals without disturbing the line. How it could have done so passes
my comprehension. But so it must be, and we shall have a wire
from Kenyon or Barton Moss presently to say that they have found her at the
bottom of an embankment, but mister Bland's prophecy was not destined to be fulfilled.
Half an hour passed and then there arrived the following message from the station
master of Kenyon Junction. There are no traces of the missing Special. It
is quite certain that she passed here and that she did not arrive at Barton
Moss. We have detached engine from goods train and have myself ridden down the
line. But all is clear and there is no sign of an accident.
Mister Bland tore his hair in his perplexity. This is rank lunacyhood, he
cried. Does a train vanish into thin air in England in broad daylight?
The thing is preposterous. An engine at tender, two carriages, a van,
five human beings and all lost on a straight line of railway. Unless
we get something positive within the next hour, I'll take in space to Collins
and go down myself. And then at last something positive did occur. It
took the shape of another telegram from Kenyon Junction, regret to report that the
dead body of John Slater, driver of the Special train, has just been
found among the Gorse bushes at a point two and a quarter miles from the
junction, had fallen from his engine, pitched down the embankment, and rolled
among the bushes. Injuries to his head from the fall appear to be cause
of death. Grounds has now been carefully examined, and there is no trace
of the missing train. The country, of course, was, as has
already been stated, in the throes of a political crisis, and the intention
of the public was further distracted by the importance and sensational developments in Paris,
where a huge scandal threatened to destroy the government and to wreck the reputations of
many of the leading men in France. The papers were full of these events,
and the singular disappearance of the special train attracted less attention than would have
been the case in more peaceful times. The grotesque nature of the event helped
to detract from its importance, for the papers were disinclined to believe the facts
as reported to them. More than one of the London journals treated the matter
as an ingenious hoax until the coroner's inquest upon the unfortunate driver, an inquest
which elicited nothing of importance, convinced them of the tragedy of the incident.
Mister Bland, accompanied by Inspector Collins, the senior detective officer in the service
of the company, went down to Kenyon Junction the same evening, and their
research lasted throughout the following day, but was attended with purely negative results.
Not only was no trace found of the missing train, but no conjecture could
be put forward which would possibly explain the facts. At the same time,
Inspector Collins's official report, which lies before me, as I write, served
to show that the possibilities were more numerous than might have been expected. Inspector
Collins writes, in the stretch of railway between these two points, the country
is dotted with iron works and collieries. Of these, some are being worked,
and some have been abandoned. There are no fewer than twelve which have
small gage lines which run trolley cars down to the main line. These can
of course be disregarded. Beside these, however, there are seven which have
or have had proper lines running down and connecting with points to the main line,
so as to convey their produce from the mouth of the mine to the
great centers of distribution. In every case these lines are only a few miles
in length. Out of the seven, four belong to collieries which are worked
out, or at least two shafts which are no longer used. These are
the Red Gauntlet, Hero Slov Despond and Heart's Ease mines, the latter having
ten years ago been one of the principal mines in Lancashire. These four side
lines may be eliminated from our inquiry, for to prevent possible accidents. The
rail nearest to the main line have been taken up and there is no longer
any connection. There remain three other side lines, leading A to the Carnstock
Iron Works, B to the big Ben colliery C to the Perseverance Colliery.
Of these, the big Ben line is not more than a quarter of a
mile long and ends at a dead wall of coal waiting removal from the mouth
of the mine. Nothing had been seen or heard there of any special.
The Carnstock Iron Works line was blocked all day upon the third of June by
sixteen truck loads of hematite. It's a single line and nothing could have passed
at the Perseverance line, a large double line which does a considerable traffic for
the output of the mine is very large. On the third of June,
this traffic proceeded as usual. Hundreds of men, including a gang of railway
plate layers, were working along the two lines and a quarter which constituted the
total length of the line, and it is inconceivable that an unexpected train could
have come down there without attracting universal attention. It may be remarked in conclusion
that this branch line is nearer to Saint Helens than the point at which the
engine driver was discovered, so that we have every reason to believe that the
train was past that point before his fortune overtook her. As to John Slater,
there is no clue to be gathered from his appearance or injuries. We
can only say that, so far as we can see, he met his
end by falling off his engine. Though why he fell or what became of
the engine after his fall is a question upon which I do not feel qualified
to offer an opinion. In conclusion, the inspector offered his resignation to the
board, being much nettled by an accusation of incompetence in the London papers.
A month elapsed during which both the police and the company prosecuted their inquiries without
the slightest success. A reward was offered and a pardon promised in case of
crime, but they were both unclaimed. Every day the public opened their papers
with a conviction that so grotesque a mystery would at last be solved. But
week after week passed by, and a solution remained as far off as ever.
In broad daylight upon a June afternoon, in the most thickly inhabited portion
of England, a train with its occupants had disappeared, as completely as if
some master of subtle chemistry had volatilized it into gas. Indeed, among the
various conjectures which were put forward in the public press, there were some which
seriously asserted that supernatural or at least preternatural agencies had been at work, and
that the deformed Monsieur Caratal was probably a person who was better known under a
less polite name. Others fixed upon his swarthy companion as being the author of
the mischief, but what it was exactly which he had done could never be
clearly formulated in words. Among the many suggestions put forward by various newspapers or
private individuals, there were one or two which were feasible enough to attract the
attention of the public. One which appeared in the Times over the signature of
an amateur reasoner of some celebrity at that date, attempted to deal with the
matter in a critical and semi scientific manner. An extract must suffice, although
the curious can see the whole letter in the issue of the third of July.
It's one of the elementary principles practical reasoning. He remarked that when the
impossible has been eliminated, the residuum, however improbable, must contain the truth.
It is certain that the train left Kenyon Junction. It is certain that
it did not reach Barton Moss. It is in the highest degree unlikely,
but still possible, that it may have taken one of the seven available sidelines.
It's obviously impossible for a train to run where there are no rails,
and therefore we may reduce our improbables to the three open lines, namely the
Carnstock Iron Works, the Big Ben and the Perseverance. Is there a secret
society of Klia an English camorra which is capable of destroying both train and passengers.
Now it's improbable, but it is not impossible. I confess that I
am unable to suggest any other solution. I should certainly advise the company to
direct all their energies toward the observation of those three lines, and of the
workmen at the end of them. A careful supervision of the pawnbrokers shops of
the district might possibly bring some suggestive facts to light. The suggestion, coming
from a recognized authority upon such matters, created considerable interest and a fierce opposition
from those who considered such a statement to be a preposterous libel upon an honest
and deserving set of men. The only answer to this criticism was it challenged
to the objectors to lay any more feasible explanations before the public. In reply
to this, two others were forthcoming the Times July seventh and ninth. The
first suggested that the train might have run off the metals and belying merged in
the Lancashire and Staffordshire Canal, which runs parallel to the railway for some hundreds
of yards. This suggestion was thrown out of court by the published depth of
the canal, which was entirely insufficient to conceal so large an object. The
second correspondent wrote, calling attention to the bag which appeared to be the sole
luggage which the travelers had brought with them, and suggesting that some novel explosive
of immense and pulverizing power might have been concealed in it. The obvious absurdity,
however, of a supposing that the whole train might be blown to dust
while the metals remained uninjured, reduced any such explanation to a farce. The
investigation had drifted into this hopeless position when a new and most unexpected incident occurred.
This was nothing less than the receipt by Missus mc pherson of a letter
from her husband, James mc pherson, who had been the guard on the
missing train. The letter, which was dated July fifth, eighteen ninety,
was posted from New York and came to hand upon July fourteenth. Some doubts
were expressed as to its genuine character, but Missus mc pherson was positive as
to the writing, and the fact that it contained a remittance of a hundred
dollars and five dollar notes was enough in itself to discount the idea of a
hoax. No address was given in the letter, which ran in this way,
my dear wife, I've been thinking a great deal, and I find
it very hard to give you up. The same with Lizzie. I try
to fight against it, but it will always come back to me. I
send you some money which will change into twenty English pounds. This should be
enough to bring both Lizzie and you across the Atlantic, and you'll find the
Hamburg boats which stop at Southampton, very good boats and cheaper than Liverpool.
If you could come here and stop at the Johnston House, I would try
and send you word how to meet. But things are very difficult with me
at present, and I am not very happy finding it hard to give you
both up. So no more at present from your loving husband, James mc
For a time it was confidently anticipated that this letter would lead to the clearing
up of the whole matter, the more so as it was ascertained that a
passenger who bore a close resemblance to the missing guard had traveled from Southampton under
the name of Somers in the Hamburg and New York liner Vistula, which started
upon the seventh of June. Missus mc pherson and her sister Lizzie Dalton went
across to New York as directed, and stayed for three weeks at the Johnston
House without hearing anything from the missing man. It's probable that some injudicious comments
in the press may have warned him that the police were using them as a
bait. However this may be, it's certain that he neither wrote nor came,
and the women were eventually compelled to return to Liverpool. And so the
matter stood and has continued to stand up to the present year eighteen ninety eight.
Incredible as it may seem, nothing has transpired during these eight years which
has shed the least light upon the extraordinary disappearance of the special tree which contained
Monsieur Carretel and his companion. Careful inquiries into the antecedents of the two travelers
have only established the fact that Monsieur Carretal was well known as a financier and
political agent in Central America, and that during his voyage to Europe he had
betrayed extraordinary anxiety to reach Paris. His companion, whose name was entered upon
the passenger list, says Eduardo Gomez, was a man whose record was a
violent one and whose reputation was that of a bravo and a bully. There
was evidence to show, however, that he was honestly devoted to the interests
of Monsieur Carretal, and that the latter, being a man of puny physique,
employed the other as a guard and protector. It may be added that
no information came from Paris as to what the objects of Monsieur Carratill's hurried journey
may have been. This compromises all the facts of the case. Upon the
publication in the Marseilles papers of the recent confession of Herbert de Lernac, now
under sentence of death for the murder of a merchant named bon Balow. This
statement may be literally translated as follows. It is not out of mere pride
or boasting that I give this information, for if that were my object,
I could tell a dozen actions of mine which are quite as splendid. But
I do it in order that certain gentlemen in Paris may understand that I,
who am able here to tell about the fate of Monsieur Caratal, can also
tell in whose interest and at whose request the deed was done, unless the
reprieve which I am awaiting comes to me very quickly. Take warning, monsieurs,
before it is too late. You know Herbert de Lernac, and you
are aware that his deeds are as ready as his words. Hasten then,
or you are lost at present, I shall mention no names. If you
only heard the names, what would you not think? But I shall merely
tell you how cleverly I did it. I was true to my employers then,
and no doubt they will be true to me now. I hope so.
And until I am convinced that they have betrayed me, these names,
which would convulse Europe, shall not be divulged. But on that day where
I say no more in a word. Then there was a famous trial in
Paris in the year eighteen ninety, in connection with a monstrous scandal in politics
and finance. How monstrous that scandal was can never be known save by such
confidential agents as myself. The honor and careers of many of the chief men
in France were at stake. You have seen a group of nine pins standing
also rigid and prim and and bending. Then there comes the fall from far
away and pop pop pop. There he are nine pins on the floor.
Well, imagine some of the greatest men in France as these nine pins.
And then this Monsieur Caratal, was the ball which could be seen coming from
far away. If he arrived, then it was pop pop, pop,
for all of them, it was determined that he should not arrive. I
do not accuse them all of being conscious of what was to happen. There
were, as I have said, great financial as well as political interests at
stake, and as syndicate was formed to manage the business. Some subscribed to
the syndicate who hardly understood what were its objects. But others understood very well,
and they can rely upon it that I have not forgotten their names.
They had ample warning that Monsieur Carretell was coming, long before he left South
America, and they knew that the evidence which he held would certainly mean ruin
to all of them. The Syndicate had the command of an unlimited amount of
money, absolutely unlimited. You understand. They looked round for an agent who
was capable of wielding this gigantic power. The man chosen must be inventive,
resolute, adaptive, a man in a million, and they chose Herbert de
Lernac, and I admit that they were right. My duties would to choose
my subordinates, to use freely the power which money gives, and to make
certain that Monsieur Carretel should never arrive in Paris with characteristic energy. I set
about my commission within an hour of receiving my instructions, and the steps which
I took were the very best for the purpose which could possibly be devised.
A man whom I could trust was dispatched instantly to South America travel home with
Monsieur Carretel. Had he arrived in time, the ship would never have reached
Liverpool. But alas it had already started before my agent could reach it,
I fitted out a small armed brig to intercept it. But again I was
unfortunate. Like all great organizers, I was, however, prepared for failure,
and had a series of alternatives prepared, one or the other of which
must succeed. You must not underrate the difficulties of my undertaking, or to
imagine that a mere commonplace assassination would meet the case. We must destroy not
only Monsieur Carretel, but Monsieur Carrattel's documents and Monsieur Carretel's companion also, if
we had reason to believe that he had communicated his secrets to them, and
you must remember that they were on the alert and keenly suspicious of any such
attempt. It was a task which was in every way worthy of me,
for I am always most masterful where another would be appalled. I was all
ready for Monsieur Carotell's reception in Liverpool, and I was the more eager because
I had reason to believe that he had made arrangements by which he would have
a considerable guard from the moment that he arrived in London. Anything which was
to be done must be done between the moment of his setting foot upon Liverpool
Quay and that of his arrival at the London and West Coast terminus. In
London. We prepared six plans, each more elaborate than the last. Which
plan would be used would depend upon his own movements do what he would.
We were ready for him if he stayed in Liverpool. We were ready if
he took an ordinary train and express or a special All was ready. Everything
had been foreseen and provided for. You may imagine that I could not do
all this myself. What could I know of the English railway lines. But
money can procure willing agents all the world over, and I soon had one
of the acutest brains in England to assist me. I will mention no names,
but it would be unjust to claim all the credit for myself. My
English ally was worthy of such an alliance. He knew the London and West
Coast line thoroughly, and he had the command of a band of workers who
were trustworthy and intelligent. The idea was his, and my own judgment was
only required in the details. We bought over several officials, amongst whom the
most important was James mac Pherson, whom we had ascertained to be the guard
most likely to be employed upon a special train. Smith the Stoker was also
in our employ John Slater, the engine driver, had been approached, but
had been found to be obstinate and dangerous, so he desisted. We had
no certainty that Monsieur Carretel would take a special but we thought it very probable,
for it was of the utmost importance to him that he should reach Paris
without delay. It was for this contingency, therefore, that we made special
preparations, preparations which were complete down to the last detail, long before his
steamer had sighted the shores of England. You will be amused to learn that
there was one of my agents in the pilot boat which brought that steamer to
its moorings the moment that Cantel arrived in Liverpool. We knew that he suspected
danger and was on his guard. He had brought with him as an escort
a dangerous fellow named Gomez, a man who carried weapons and was prepared to
use them. This fellow carried Carotel's confidential papers for him and was ready to
protect them, either them or his master. The probability was that Caratal had
taken him into his counsels, and that to remove Carotel without removing Gomez would
be a mere waste of energy. It was necessary that they should be involved
in a common fate, and our plans to that end were much facilitated by
their request for a special train. On that special train, you will understand
that two out of the three servants of the company were really in our employ
at a price which would make them independent for a lifetime. I do not
go so far as to say that the English are more honest than any other
nation, but I have certainly found them more expensive to buy. I have
already spoken of my English agent, who was a man with a considerable future
before him, unless some complaint of the throat carries him more before his time.
He had charge of all arrangements at Liverpool, while I was stationed at
the Inn at Kenyon, where I awaited a cipher's signal to act. When
the special was arranged for, my agent instantly telegraphed to me and warned me
how soon I should have everything ready. He himself, under the name of
Horace Moore, applied immediately for a special, also in the hope that he
would be sent down with Monsieur Carretaut, which might, under certain circumstances,
have been helpful to it. If, for example, our great coup had
failed, it might then have become the duty of my agent, who have
shot them both and destroyed their papers. Cannatell was on his guard, however,
and refused to admit any other traveler. My agent then left the station,
returned by another entrance, entered the guards van on the side farthest from
the platform, and traveled down with McPherson the guard. In the meantime,
you will be, of course interested to know that my movements were Everything had
been prepared for days before, and only the finishing touches were needed. The
side line which we had chosen had once joined the main line, but it
had been disconnected. We had only to replace a few rails to connect it
once more. These rails had been laid down as far as could be done
without danger of attracting attention, and now it was merely a case of completing
a juncture with the line and arranging the points as they had been before.
The sleepers had never been removed in the rails. Fish plates and rivets were
all ready for. We had taken them from a siding on the abandoned portion
of the line with my small but comp but a band of workers. We
had everything ready long before the special arrived. When it did arrive, it
ran off upon the small side lines so easily that the jolting of the points
appears to have been entirely unnoticed by the two travelers. Our plan had been
that Smith the Stoker should chloroform John Slater and the driver, so that he
should vanish with the others in this respect, and in this respect only our
plans miscarritt I expect the criminal folly of Macpherson, in writing home to his
wife Arstoker did his business so clumsily that Slater and his struggles fell off the
engine, and through fortune was with us so far that he broke his neck
in the fall. Still he remained as a blot upon that which would otherwise
have been one of the most complete masterpieces, which are only to be contemplated
in silent admiration. The criminal expert will find him, John Slater, the
one floor in all our admirable combinations, a man who has had as many
triumphs as I can afford to be frank. And I therefore or lay my
finger upon John Slater and proclaim him to be a floor. But now I
have got our special train upon the small line two kilometers or rather more than
one mile in length, which leads, or rather used to lead to the
abandoned Heartsea's Mine, once one of the largest coal mines in England. You'll
ask how it is that no one saw the train upon this unused line,
And I answered that along its entire length it runs through a deep cutting,
and that unless some one had been on the edge of that cutting, he
could not have seen it. There was some one on the edge of that
cutting. I was there, and now I will tell you what I saw.
My assistant had remained at the points in order that he might superintend the
switching off of the train. He had four armed men with him, so
that the train ran off the line. We thought it probably because the points
were rusty, we might still have resources to fall back upon. Having once
seen it safely on the side line, he handed over the responsibility to me.
I was waiting at a point which overlook the mouth of the mine,
and I was also armed, as were my two companions. Come. What
might you say? I was always ready. The moment that the train was
fairly on the side line, Psmith the stoker slowed down the engine, and
then, having turned it on to the fullest speed again, he and mac
Pherson with my English lieutenant sprang off before it was too late. It may
be that it was this slowing down which first attracted the attention of the travelers,
But the train was running at full speed again before their heads appeared at
the open window. It makes me smile to think how bewildered they must have
been. Picture to yourself your own feelings. If, on looking out of
your luxurious carriage, you suddenly perceived that the lines upon which you ran were
rusted and corroded, red and yellow with disuse and decay. What a catch
must have come in their breath, as in a second it flashed upon them
that it was not Manchester, but death, which was waiting for them at
the end of that sinister line. But the train was running with frantic speed,
rolling on the rocking over the rotten line, while the wields made a
frightful screaming sound upon the rusted surface. I was close to them and could
see their faces. Carratelle was praying. I think there was something like a
rosary dangling out of his hand. The other roared like a bull who smells
the blood of the slaughter house. He saw us standing on the bank,
and he beckoned to us like a madman. Then he tore at his wrist
and threw his despatch box out the window in our direction. Of course,
his meaning was obvious. Here was the evidence, and they would promise to
be silent if their lives were spared. It would have been very agreeable if
we could have done so, but business is business. Besides, the train
was now as much beyond our controls as theirs. He ceased howling when the
train rattled round the curb, and they saw the blank mouth of the mine
yawning before them. We had removed the boards which had covered it, and
we had cleared the square entrance. The rails had formerly run very close to
the shaft for the convenience of loading the coal, and we had only to
add two or three lengths of rail in order to lead to the very brink
of the shaft. In fact, as the lynks would not quite fit,
our line projected about three feet over the edge. We saw the two heads
at the window Caratal below Gomez above that they had both been struck silent by
what they saw, and yet they could not withdraw their heads. The sight
seemed to have paralyzed them. I have wondered how the train, running at
great speed would take the pit into which I had guided it, and I
was much interested in watching it. One of my colleagues thought that it would
actually jump it, and indeed it was not very far from doing so.
Fortunately, however, it fell short and the buffers of the engine struck the
other lip of the shaft with a tremendous crash. The funnel flew off into
the air. The tender carriages and van were all smashed up into one jumble,
which, with the remains of the engine, choked for a minute or
so the mouth of the pit. Then something gave way in the middle,
and the whole mass of green iron smoking coals, brass fittings, wheels would
work, and cushions all crumbled together and crashed down into the mine. We
heard the rattle, rattle, rattle as the debris struck against the walls,
and then quite a long time afterwards, there came a deep roar as the
remains of the train struck the bottom. The boiler may have burst, for
a sharp crash came after the roar, and then a dense cloud of steam
and smoke swirled up out of the black depths, falling in a spray as
thick as rain all around us. Then the vapors shedded off into thin wisps,
which floated away in the summer sunshine, and all was quiet again in
the hearts eased mine, And now having carried out our plans so successfully,
it only remained to leave no trace behind us. Our little band of workers
at the other end had already ripped up the rails and disconnected the sideline,
replacing everything as it had been before. We were equally busy at the mine.
The funnel and other fragments were thrown in, The shaft was planked over
again as it used to be, and the lines which led to it were
torn up and taken away. Then, without furry, but without delay,
we all made our way to the countrary, most of us to Paris,
my English colleague to Manchester, and Macpherson to Southampton. Whence he emigrated to
America. That the English papers of that date tell how thoroughly we had done
our work, and how completely we had thrown the cleverest of their detectives off
our track. You will remember that Gomez threw his bag of papers out of
the window, and I need not say that I secured that bag and brought
them to my employers. It may interest my employers now, however, to
learn that out of that bag I took one or two little papers as a
souvenir of the occasion. I have no wish to publish these papers. But
still it is every man for himself in this world. And what else can
I do if my friends will not come to my aid when I want them.
Messieurs, you may believe that Herbert de Lernac is quite as formidable when
he is against you as when he is with you, and that he is
not a man to go to the guillotine until he has seen that every one
of you is all out for new Caledonia. For your own sake, if
not for mine, make haste, Monsieur de Blanc and General Blanc and Baron
Blanc. You can fill up the blanks for yourselves as you read this,
I promise you that in the next edition there will be no blanks to fill.
P. S. As I look over my statement, there is only
one omission which I can see. It concerns the unfortunate man Macpherson, who
was foolish enough to write to his wife and to make an appointment with her
in New York. It can be imagined that when the interests like ours were
at stake, we could not leave them to the chance of whether a man
in that class of life would or would not give away his secrets to a
woman. Having once broken his oath by writing to his wife, we could
not trust him any more. We took steps, therefore, to ensure that
he should not see his wife. I have sometimes thought that it would be
a kindness to write to her and assure her that there is no impediment to
her marrying again. End of the Lost Special by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle