The Train From Plymouth

by Maurice Barkley

  When Holmes finished his writing he got up from the desk and rejoined our group.

  “Mr. Browne,” he said, “I firmly believe that the story you have told us is related to a crime that is yet to be committed. I may be able to determine the time and place when I receive the answer to this telegram, which should go immediately to the person of highest authority at the Great Western Terminal at Plymouth. I would like you to sign your name to what I have written and add your own words—those that will impress on the recipient the urgency of a speedy reply. If good fortune is with us, we may have a solution before the day is done.”

  By this time Inspector Lestrad was out of his chair and fairly dancing on the rug.

  “Now see here, Holmes, I know you love to keep your secrets, but I demand to know what you have up your sleeve. I'll not sit around and play pat-a-cake until your hour of revelation.”

  “Do calm yourself, Lestrad,” said Holmes, while filling his pipe with tobacco from the Persian slipper. “I'll tell you what you need to know as soon as I determine that you can make use of the information. If I am right, precipitous action would be disastrous. If you wish to speed things up, go with Mr. Browne and see that his message has priority.”

  Lestrad knew better than to continue to argue with the detective, so with much grumbling he and our two other guests went out the door. When they were gone we made ourselves comfortable by the fireplace. For a short while we were silent then Holmes said, “A rather interesting problem, is it not?”

  “Interesting to be sure,” I replied, “but it is also completely baffling.”

  “Surely you have an idea of the whereabouts of the train for three years,” Holmes said.

  “Pure and simple,” I said. “Based on all I have heard—that train just disappeared in a puff of smoke. Of course I know it did no such thing, but I am at a loss for any explanation.”

  “First of all,” said Holmes, “we can assume that the railroad personnel, as a group, were truthful in what they said. Therefore the train did somehow leave the main line somewhere between the two towns. Since time was limited to less than three hours, we know that the train was not somehow disassembled and carted off. Also the surrounding countryside makes it even less likely.

  “So we are left with the probability it left the main line under its own power. To do that, the first requirement is a switch. Once more, a switch could hardly be removed without a trace in such a short time so an existing switch must have been utilized.

  “This brings us to the siding Mr. Waterhouse spoke of. If we were to go there today and shovel away a few inches of earth beyond the so-called end of the siding, we would discover that the tracks continued on and into the ravine, which was the hiding place for the train.

  “A gang of twenty men, I'm sure, could uncover then re-cover that stretch of tracks in a matter of minutes. You will recall that Mr. Waterhouse said that it was all loose gravel.”

  “But what about the large tree?” I said.

  “Troublesome to the criminals,” said Holmes, “but in the end an excellent cover. I'll wager that they neatly sawed it off at ground level and left it standing in place after laying the additional rails. A few good men with block and tackle could knock it over then set it up in a matter of minutes. I admit that the operation is complex, but it fits the facts.”

  “Amazing,” I said. “See here, old man, this whole thing smacks of considerable planning and considerable capital. They had to begin years ago with the tree, then the laying of the tracks into the ravine, which must have taken a month of nights to accomplish. They must have been after a great prize, but why a few boxes of wood and why take it out of hiding now for all the world to see?”

  “I can only assume,” said Holmes, “that they originally made off with the wrong train and now they need the space where it was hidden.”

  “You mean,” I cried, “they plan on stealing yet another train?”

  “Exactly. They remain confident of the security of their hiding place as evidenced by the boldness of their latest move. Our future moves must be made with great care, Watson. An organization with such financing, planning ability and expertise is not to be taken lightly. In fact, dear Boy, an operation of this magnitude may well have its roots in the lair of an old acquaintance of ours.”

  “Moriarty.” I said the hated name. “Do you really think so?”

  “I have developed a sixth sense about that fellow,” said Holmes, a slight frown on his brow. “I'll wager a year's income that the trail could lead ultimately to his doorstep. Of course, he will never go near the scene of this crime. There is really no hope of apprehending him for what has happened, but if we are careful we should be able to throw a net around his agents in this matter.”

  About two hours later our three friends returned. Mr. Browne handed over an unusually long telegram that Holmes began to study in detail.

  The rest of us stood around, alternately pacing the floor or looking out of the window. Mr. Waterhouse had become infected by the mood and stood by the fireplace with an unhappy look on his face.

  “Gentlemen, “said Holmes abruptly, “we have a job to do tomorrow afternoon. I can see now that my presence and that of Dr. Watson will indeed be necessary in the neighborhood of Oak Hampton. Mr. Browne, we must have a special train at our disposal—one passenger car should be sufficient. If we leave London at seven tomorrow morning, we should be at our destination with about two hours to spare. Now, Lestrad, that the police will be necessary is a certainty. To be safe, I suggest that you bring at least fifteen armed men. I must stress that secrecy is vital. Do what you must do with as little notice as possible and deal only with trusted people.”

  “Now just one minute, Holmes.” said Lestrad—his jaw thrust out in his best bulldog manner. “Are you sure you don't want the Queen's Guard and a regiment of Horse Cavalry? What is happening here? I need some solid facts before I go running all over the countryside with a small army—and in a private train no less.”

  “First,” said Holmes, “I still have some thinking to do. I have the main plot worked out, but I must go over the ground in detail so that our mission tomorrow will be a success. You know I don't like loose ends. To reveal what I know now would complicate my planning. For example, you, or Mr. Browne might well go running off in your own directions. No—at this point the ship needs just one captain. I will give you all of the necessary details on the train tomorrow. Until then you must trust me. I will stake my reputation on this and be fully responsible for what takes place. Further, I believe I can guarantee that our activities in the next twenty-four hours will place a large feather in your cap and bring credit to Scotland Yard. There you have it. What do you say?”

  Lestrad stood silent for a while. I could almost hear the clockwork whirr of the mechanisms in his head as he considered what Holmes had just told us. I was confident that he would make the proper choice. When all is said, the Inspector is a practical man, aware of where his best interests reside. Experience had taught him to take Sherlock at his word.

  “I don't like it,” he growled, “but I will do as you wish. I'll see you gentlemen in the morning at Paddington Station.”

  That said, he turned and walked out the door.

  “Mr. Waterhouse,” said Holmes, “I should like to have a few words with you in private if you please. Dr. Watson, will you be so kind as to entertain Mr. Browne while I take Mr. Waterhouse into my room?”

  “Certainly, Holmes,” I replied as they left.

  I spent the time in conversation with Mr. Browne. All the while making every effort to steer the talk away from our little problem so as not to let slip any of the information I was privy to.

  Holmes and Waterhouse appeared in less than ten minutes. Holmes went to the mantle, picked up his old briar and set it alight with a coal from the smallish fire.

  “Mr. Browne,” said Holmes, “I am sending Mr. Waterhouse on his way. I have given him the necessary instructions for a task that he has to perform. I think it now
would be advisable for you to go and make the arrangements for our journey tomorrow.”

  “Very well, Mr. Holmes,” said Browne, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I am a bewildered man, but like Inspector Lestrad, I will do as you say and hope for the best.” Turning to his companion, he said, “Come along, Mr. Waterhouse.”

  After shaking hands all around, the two men went out the door and Holmes and I were left alone. “Holmes,” I said, “I have no inkling of your plans, but I am concerned about Mr. Waterhouse. I would not describe him as a stalwart fellow. I hope you have confidence in his ability to perform the task you have given him.”

  “Oh,” Holmes replied, “I know he will comply, because in return for his cooperation, I gave him my word that he would not be prosecuted for his participation in the robbery. I have exchanged one small minnow for a much larger fish.” I was bewildered and my face must have shown my puzzlement. “I’ll answer your unasked question,” Holmes continued. “I always look askance at coincidence, Watson. Here we have two steam engines developing mechanical problems at critical moments—really? And then there is Mr. Waterhouse telling the Oakhampton people to stay in place. Why would he do that? It is not logical unless he had beforehand planned to create a delay of at least one additional hour.

  “When I confronted him with my speculations, he wilted instantly. In addition, he confessed that the promised cash reward never materialized. He was a failure as a criminal and I greatly doubt he will transgress in the future.”

  I knew that further questions would be pointless so I began to think of how to occupy my time for the rest of the day.

  “Dear fellow,” said Holmes, “it seems we have a free evening ahead of us. If you are in the proper mood I suggest a pleasant, if not intellectual, hour or so at the Trivoli Music Hall. After which, we may step next door to the Trivoli Grand Restaurant for dinner from the joint and German beer.”

  “A capital idea, Holmes,” I said with enthusiasm. “Let me wash up and we'll be off.”

  It has always been a source of wonder to me to see Holmes, in the middle of a case such as this, to remove himself completely from the problem at hand. He has told me that it is pointless to expend energy worrying about something when you are not in a position to act. During the whole of the evening I could tell that he was thinking only of the pleasures of the night. Not once did our mystery creep into the conversation as we reveled in the distractions of the city. The hour was not yet eleven when we returned to Baker Street to retire and refresh ourselves for the demands of the next day.

  A slow, steady drizzle settled over our Hansom as we drew near Paddington Station in the early morning light. A cold white fog moved among the raindrops, but was not heavy enough to hinder our progress. Other than a few straggling workmen, the streets were deserted.

  The station interior proved to be several degrees warmer due, I imagine, to the many gas jets that were turned on to compensate for the lack of sunshine. Although this type of illumination had been around for many years, I still marveled at the men who created and maintained this convenience.

  The rest of our party, looking to be a small army of men in uniform, was there to greet us. Some early passengers, who knew nothing of our mission, shot nervous glances at so formidable a gathering of authority.

  Mr. Browne immediately led us to the boarding platform where a huge, black beast of a machine sat motionless in the mist. Occasional gouts of steam were blown out of the cylinder bottoms as the engineer worked to keep them hot and ready to go. A steady rumbling betrayed the presence of a roaring fire hidden in her iron belly. It was one of the new Class D locomotives with a high-pressure boiler and gargantuan drive wheels that stood taller by half than the men who ran her. Nothing that moved in all of England or all the world could keep pace with this juggernaut. It spoke powerfully of the importance Mr. Browne placed on these events.

  The single car coupled behind the tender proved to be a very elegant club coach fitted out with a bar, dining facilities and a small staff to see to our needs. A glorious maze of tubes and ducts allowed steam from the engine to heat our conveyance. How delightful it would be to have similar features in one’s residence. Regardless of what lay at the end, the trip was to be comfortable and pleasant.

  “Holmes,” I said, as I settled into my well cushioned seat, “I must thank you for requesting this elegant transport.”

  “I merely requested fast, Watson. Laurels for the frills must be granted to Mr. Browne.”

  Our short train started with a surge of power that rocked me back into my seat. Several constables, who were standing at the time, momentarily lost their balance. We were all duly impressed with the power of our carrier.

  Once clear of the city we fairly flew through the countryside. The entire route had been cleared so there were no delays at all. We rode for a considerable time in a state of mild tension—trying to relax. At noon, the porters served an excellent lunch to all and Lestrad relented enough to allow his men a ration of “Mother's Ruin”. I am not too fond of gin, so I abstained. At about two in the afternoon, after we had run clear of Exeter, Holmes stood up and asked everyone to gather around.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “I thank you one and all for your admirable patience. I know you have held back your questions for these past hours so now I will satisfy your curiosity.”

  Holmes then proceeded to tell them most of that which he had revealed to me the previous evening about the siding and the resting place of the train that had been missing for so long. When he completed that portion of his explanation, he paused to fill and light his pipe. A small murmur arose from the gathering as they digested this most interesting revelation.

  “Now, gentlemen,” said Holmes, having his pipe well lit, “what is it that brings us here? When I first heard this curious story, it was not difficult to determine the hiding place of the train, but questions were left unanswered. Why was the train stolen, then why did it reappear? Why was the cargo untouched?

  “I surmised that, in regard to the cargo, the thieves made off with the wrong train. Mr. Browne, you will recall that you told me that a mechanical failure of the original engine necessitated the substitute on that morning three years ago. Since all engines are prominently numbered, I theorized the thieves were looking for the number on the replacement engine.

  “Now—why the reappearance? The answer is simply because they, the thieves, now need the space. They plan to steal another train and hide it in the ravine where the original rested for all of this time. A secondary question arises. Why is it necessary to remove a train from the main line and hide it away? The answer is that it allows adequate time for the removal of some heavy, bulky or fragile cargo. If the object in question was, for example, a gold shipment—one could simply stop the train, use some explosives to get at the cargo and make off with it in a very few minutes. This was not the case—why?

  “The remaining details were revealed by the answer to the telegram that Mr. Browne sent to the Station Master at Plymouth. In brief, I asked him first to check the records of three years past. I needed to determine the contents of the train to which the replacement engine was originally assigned. My second request was for a manifest for all trains leaving Plymouth for one week starting yesterday. The answers, my friends, were most gratifying. First, the train of three years ago, the one that did not leave Plymouth because of the loss of its engine, was a consignment of rare and quite priceless paintings from a private collection in the city of Plymouth that had been donated to the National Gallery in London. The paintings were individually crated and filled three goods wagons to capacity. Further, the crates were wired together to minimize any movement in transit so you can see that unloading such a train would take a fair amount of time, otherwise one would risk damage to the cargo.

  “The train Leaving Plymouth today is also a similar consignment of art from the same private collection and destined to the National Gallery. The telegram informed me additionally, that the owner of this private collec
tion had recently died and this train contains the balance of his collection, which he bequeathed to the Gallery. A cursory estimate puts the value of these paintings at somewhere between fifty and sixty thousand pounds.”

  “Good, God, Holmes,” Lestrad erupted, “sixty thousand pounds, you could buy half of buy half of Plymouth for that.”

  “Indeed,” said Holmes. “Our task then is to lay in wait at Oak Hampton until Mr. Waterhouse signals us that the train has been taken over by the bandits. On my instructions, Mr. Waterhouse will allow the theft to occur, and then notify us. Since the thieves did no harm to the crew of three years past, I feel confident that I am not risking anyone's life with my little scheme.”

  “You demand a great deal of leeway, Holmes,” Lestrad grumbled. “I hate going at this blind.”

  “The plans cannot be altered from here,” said Holmes, “Indeed it is for that reason I felt the need to keep it a secret until now. You have my apologies, Inspector.”

  “Apologies are all well and good, Holmes, but if any of those men should be injured as part of this scheme of yours I’ll be holding you accountable.”

  “That was understood from the beginning,” Holmes said. “Once we receive the signal from Mr. Waterhouse, we will proceed south to a point near, but out of sight of the siding. There we will dismount and advance on foot to the ravine. Inspector Lestrad will assume command at that point. I expect we will find upwards of thirty men in the ravine—of which possibly five will be armed and desperate enough to fire on us.”

  For the next little while there ensued a babble of conversation as the revelations were discussed, then Lestrad took over and laid out a plan of action.

  We arrived in Oak Hampton on schedule and restlessly waited out the interval. As if on cue from a prewritten script, the local Station Master ran out of his office, waving above his head the message from Mr. Waterhouse that sent us flying down the tracks.