Authors: Robert Ryan
‘Indeed he did. The man was exceptionally tall, dressed in a long black overcoat with astrakhan collar and cuffs. As I have already said, the evening was an inclement one, and the tall
traveller had the high, warm collar turned up to protect his throat against the bitter March wind. He appeared, as far as the guard could judge, to be between fifty and sixty years of age. But
vigorous with it. In one hand he carried a brown leather Gladstone bag.’
‘But no other distinguishing features?’ asked Holmes. I must admit I was watching my friend as much as the policeman. It warmed my heart to see him so engaged.
The railway detective shook his head. ‘No. Palmer said, had he known what was about to happen, he would have studied every aspect of the man. But as it was, he simply thought him one more
passenger among the hundred or more he would see that evening.’
‘Quite so. And the lady?’
‘No fuller a picture, I fear. Tall and erect, walking with a vigorous step, which outpaced the gentleman beside her. She wore a long, fawn-coloured dust-cloak, a black, close-fitting
toque, and a dark veil which concealed the greater part of her face. The two might very well have passed as father and daughter. They walked swiftly down the line of carriages, glancing in at the
windows, until Palmer overtook them.’ At this point the policeman fetched a notebook from his pocket and flicked the pages until he found the desired passage. ‘“Now then, sir,
look sharp, the train is going,” he said to them. “We’ll have First Class,” the man answered.’
Now Holmes’s fingers were pressed together, forming a pyramid, and his lips were pursed. I could almost hear the great brain humming like a dynamo as he conjured the scene of steam and
haste. ‘Proceed.’
Henderson looked down at the notes once more. ‘The nearest carriage, which Palmer opened, was occupied by a small man with a cigar in his mouth. Now this man’s appearance seems to
have impressed itself upon the guard’s memory, for he was prepared, afterwards, to describe or to identify him. He was a man of thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, dressed in some grey
material, sharp-nosed, alert, with a ruddy, weather-beaten face, and a small, closely cropped, black beard.’
‘That is a very precise description for such a fleeting contact,’ I said, gratified when Holmes nodded that the same thought had occurred to him, ‘especially when he was so
vague on the other players.’
‘But he swears those are the facts.’
‘Then we should give him the benefit of the doubt,’ said Holmes.
‘The gentleman with the astrakhan coat was not happy. “This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes smoke,” he said. Now Palmer, being a good servant of the railway,
thought the express might be late. So he slammed the door of the smoking carriage, opened that of the next one, which was empty, and thrust the two travellers in. He says he fears he might have
been brusque, which pained him, but he is a punctilious man and it was now one minute after five. So he sounded his whistle and the wheels of the train began to move. The man with the cigar was at
the window of his carriage, and said something to the guard as he rolled past him, but the words were lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmer stepped into the guard’s van, as it came up
to him, and thought no more of the incident.’
‘Why should he?’ I asked. ‘Nothing untoward has happened so far.’
‘Patience, Watson,’ said Holmes with a slight smile on his lips. ‘Mr Henderson, I feel we are about to reach the crux of this matter.’
‘Indeed we are. Some twelve minutes after its departure the train reached Willesden Junction, where it stopped for a very short interval. Now, before you ask, Mr Holmes, an examination of
the tickets has ascertained beyond doubt that no one either joined or left it at this time, and no passenger was seen to alight upon the platform. At five fourteen the journey to Manchester was
resumed, and Rugby was reached at six fifty, the express being five minutes late. At Rugby the attention of the station officials was drawn to the fact that the door of one of the First Class
carriages was unlatched. An examination of that compartment, and of its neighbour, disclosed a remarkable state of affairs, Mr Holmes.’
Holmes leaned forward now, fingers still pyramided together and his eyes blazing. ‘Pray, proceed, Mr Henderson.’
‘The smoking carriage in which the short, red-faced man with the black beard had been seen was now empty. Save for a half-smoked cigar, there was no trace whatever of the recent occupant.
The door of this carriage was fastened. In the next compartment, to which attention had been originally drawn, there was no sign either of the gentleman with the astrakhan collar or of the young
lady who accompanied him. All three passengers had disappeared. On the other hand, there was found upon the floor of this carriage – the one in which the tall traveller and the lady had been
– a young man fashionably dressed and of elegant appearance. He lay with his knees drawn up, and his head resting against the further door, an elbow upon either seat. A bullet had penetrated
his heart and his death must have been instantaneous. No one had seen such a man enter the train, and no railway ticket was found in his pocket, neither were there any markings upon his linen, nor
papers nor personal property that might help to identify him. Who he was, whence he had come, and how he had met his end were each as great a mystery as what had occurred to the three people who
had started an hour and a half before from Euston and then Willesden in those two compartments.’
‘But there was one other peculiarity,’ prompted Holmes, ‘about this young man. Much commented upon at the time.’
‘Yes. In his pockets were found no fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in the various pockets of his waistcoat, one in his ticket-pocket, one in his breast-pocket, and one small
one set in a leather strap and fastened round his left wrist.’
‘The obvious explanation,’ I offered, knowing I would be knocked down, but enjoying the show all the same, ‘was that the man was a pickpocket, and that this was his
plunder.’
Holmes turned his gaze to me. ‘Yes, my dear Watson, but note that all six were of American make and of a type that is rare in England. Three of them bore the mark of the Rochester
Watchmaking Company; one was by Mason of Elmira; one was unmarked; and the small one, which was highly jewelled and ornamented, was from Tiffany of New York. The other contents of his pockets
consisted of an ivory knife with a corkscrew by Rodgers of Sheffield; a small, circular mirror, one inch in diameter; a readmission slip to the Lyceum Theatre; a silver box full of Vesta matches,
and a brown leather cigar case containing two cheroots – also two pounds and fourteen shillings in money. It was clear, then, that whatever motives may have led to his death, robbery was not
among them.’
‘I thought you knew only the vaguest details,’ offered Henderson, unable to hide his amazement.
To Holmes that list amounted to the vaguest details, but I said nothing.
‘As already mentioned, there were no markings upon the man’s linen, which appeared to be new, and no tailor’s name upon his coat. He was young, short, smooth-cheeked, and
delicately featured. One of his front teeth was conspicuously stopped with gold.’
‘And what action was taken upon the discovery of the body?’ asked Holmes.
‘An examination was instantly made of the tickets of all passengers, and the number of the passengers themselves was counted. It was found that only three tickets were unaccounted for,
corresponding to the three travellers who were missing. The express was then allowed to proceed, but a new guard was sent with it, and John Palmer was detained as a witness at Rugby. The carriage
that included the two compartments in question was uncoupled and sidetracked. Then, on the arrival of Inspector Vane, of Scotland Yard—’
‘Vane?’
‘You know him, Mr Holmes?’
‘Only by reputation,’ he replied, with a thin smile that gave little away.
‘And of myself as company detective, an exhaustive enquiry was made into all the circumstances. That a crime had been committed was certain. The bullet, which appeared to have come from a
small pistol or revolver, had been fired from some little distance, as there was no scorching of the clothes.’
‘The clothes have been retained?’ Holmes asked.
‘Yes. You are welcome to examine them, Mr Holmes.’
Holmes nodded his appreciation. ‘But I assume no weapon was found?’
‘None.’
‘Which, along with the lack of scorch marks, suggests this was not a suicide.’
‘My conclusion exactly, Mr Holmes. Nor was there any sign of the brown leather bag that the guard had seen in the hand of the tall gentleman. A lady’s parasol was found upon the
rack, but no other trace was to be seen of the travellers in either of the sections. Apart from the crime, the question of how or why three passengers, one of them a lady, could get out of the
train, and one other get in during the unbroken run between Willesden and Rugby has been exercising us.’
‘Could the guard throw any light on this?’
‘John Palmer said that there was a spot between Tring and Cheddington, where, on account of some repairs to the line, the train had for a few minutes slowed down to a pace not exceeding
eight or ten miles an hour. At that place it might be possible for a man, or even for an exceptionally active woman, to have left the train without serious injury. It was true that a gang of
platelayers was there, and that they had seen nothing, but it was their custom to stand in the middle between the metals, and the open carriage door was upon the far side, so that it was
conceivable that someone might have alighted unseen, as the darkness would by that time be drawing in. A steep embankment would instantly screen anyone who sprang out from the observation of the
navvies. The guard also noted that there was a good deal of movement upon the platform at Willesden Junction, and that though it was certain that no one had either joined or left the train there,
it was still quite possible that some of the passengers might have changed unseen from one compartment to another.’
I ventured a theory. ‘A gentleman might finish his cigar in a smoking carriage and then change to a clearer atmosphere. Supposing that the man with the black beard had done so at Willesden
– and the half-smoked cigar upon the floor seemed to favour the supposition – he would naturally go into the nearest section, which would bring him into the company of the two other
actors in this drama.’
‘Bravo, Watson,’ Holmes said softly and sincerely. ‘But what happened next? The line has been examined, Mr Henderson, with thoroughness, I presume?’
‘Yes. And near Tring, at the very place where the train slowed down, there was found at the bottom of the embankment a small pocket Testament, very shabby and worn.’
‘Obviously well loved. Which suggests there might be an inscription?’
‘It was printed by the Bible Society of London, and bore an inscription: “From John to Alice. 13 Jan 1856,” upon the fly-leaf. Underneath was written: “James. 4 July
1859” and beneath that again: “Edward. 1 Nov 1869,” all the entries being in the same handwriting.’
‘It does not sound as if the owner would part with this willingly. Which suggests foul play indeed.’
‘Hence the coroner’s verdict of “Murder by a person or persons unknown”, Mr Holmes.’
‘There were rewards offered for information, I believe,’ I interjected.
‘The usual time-wasters, I am afraid, Dr Watson. It was the unsatisfactory ending to a singular case. Unless, of course, you can help, Mr Holmes.’
Holmes took a breath so deep it threatened to deplete the air in the room. ‘I cannot promise, Mr Henderson. It is, as you say, a most singular case and I would change nothing about your
investigation.’
Henderson reddened with pleasure.
‘But I need some time. Having furnished me with the facts in such a concise way, you may consider your duty done. You left your card with Mrs Hudson? Good. I hope to be in touch
shortly.’
When Henderson had left I let Holmes ruminate for ten minutes, eyes half-hooded, and returned to my newspaper. When the lids lifted I asked: ‘Well, Holmes?’
‘Well, my dear friend. Do you have any appointments this evening?’
‘None, Holmes.’
‘Good. Then perhaps you would do me the kindness of accompanying me on a journey.’
‘Where to, Holmes?’
‘Rugby, of course. Pass the Bradshaw’s, will you?’
The Manchester Express left that Monday evening at two minutes past five, with the usual cacophony of steam, whistles and slamming carriage doors. Holmes and I had a carriage
to ourselves, a smoker in the same portion of the train as the one that the gentleman with the cigar would have occupied.
We both used the opportunity to light a cigarette and, replete after a late lunch in Simpson’s, I felt like snoozing. Holmes was having none of it. He was on his feet as soon as the train
left the station, examining the doors and latches and, at one point, throwing himself on the floor and rolling under the seat.
‘Can you see me, Watson?’
‘Of course I can. And it is filthy down there.’
He emerged covered in fluff and cigar stubs, and brushed himself down. ‘There was a remarkable theory put forward. The fact that the young man’s watches were of American make, and
some peculiarities in connection with the gold stopping of his front tooth, appeared to indicate that the deceased was a citizen of the United States. His linen, clothes and boots were undoubtedly
of British manufacture. So, it has been surmised, he was a spy on the trail of some secret society, recently arrived in this country from America. He was concealed under the seat, and that, on
being discovered, he was for some reason, possibly because he had overheard their guilty secrets, put to death by his fellow passengers.’
‘Including a woman?’
‘Are not women conspicuous in the nihilistic and anarchist movement?’
‘But why would he have so many watches about his person? And you can’t conceal yourself under a seat. And what role does the smoker play in that theory?’
‘Good points. But remember, Watson. When—’