Speaker 1: 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 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