Sherlock Holmes (36 page)

Tindall looked about him and
realised that he had now but one hope. “Well, sir, I was having a
problem with some people who I owed some money to. They threatened
me, sir. They said that I would lose my job and the family would
end up in the workhouse if I didn’t pay up.” Holmes nodded and
waved his hand for Tindall to continue. “There was this one fellow
who I had not seen before. He was big and muscular. He said that he
had a way out for me. I could earn a great deal of money…in gold,
if I was to complete a small task for him.”

Holmes again nodded, saying,
“Was it something relating to your work on the railway?”

Tindall looked shame-faced.
“Yes, sir. They offered me five sovereigns, in advance, if I would
make an impression of a key. They said that if I did that, they
would wipe the slate clean and give me a hundred sovereigns on
top!”

Holmes held his forefinger to
his lips before asking, “This impression, it must have been for a
very special key for it to be worth so much?”

Nodding, Tindall answered, “Yes,
sir. As you can see from my uniform, I am a railway guard. On some
trains there are safes or strongboxes to which I have a key. They
wanted a copy of my key but I told them, it would do them no good
for you need two keys…” His voice now died away as he finally
realised how grievously he had been deceived. “They were going to
kill me… with that bag! They said the hundred sovereigns were in
there!” He now looked panicked, shouting, “I didn’t know anything
about Harry, sir. I swear!”

Holmes stood and turned to
Lestrade, saying, “You may keep the bag, Inspector. It may be
needed for The Old Bailey. In the meantime, I would be grateful if
you could keep our dealings with Mr Tindall confidential.” With a
glint in his eye, Holmes continued, “He may become extremely useful
to us in the future.”

Lestrade nodded, saying, "Do not
concern yourself, Mr Holmes, for I have just the place for him at
Bow Street Police Station."

 
Chapter 5 -
An invitation for Mycroft

After saying farewell to
Lestrade, Holmes stopped briefly at the station telegraph office to
send a further telegram to Mycroft before hailing a cab and
returning to Baker Street.

I must confess that I was full
of questions. I restrained myself from asking until we were both
ensconced in our chairs and had filled our pipes.

Sitting back, I asked, “Tell me,
Holmes, what are your thoughts now we have met Tindall?”

Holmes paused for perhaps thirty
seconds before replying, “It is not he who concerns me, Watson, it
is the crime that has so far gone undetected that I find
intriguing.”

I sat and could only utter,
“What crime, Holmes?”

Holmes turned towards me. Taking
his pipe from his mouth, he wagged the stem in my direction,
saying, “Precisely, Watson! This is what we have yet to determine.
It is almost the perfect crime for Moriarty. As far as the world
knows, nothing has been stolen. Had Tindall not been ill, and had
he opened the bag, we would have been none the wiser. Another foul
deed blamed on a group of anarchists. It would have expunged any
evidence that might have implicated Moriarty.”

Holmes paused, closed his eyes
and was again deep in thought. “And yet… why would she have need to
do that? Even if the men had seen her, knowing it was she who was
responsible would be of little use. No! There must be another
reason why these two men had to die.” Holmes was silent, knees
drawn up to his chest and once more he returned to that
contemplative state where he could play out a myriad of scenarios
and analyse the data.

Holmes remained thus for,
perhaps, ten minutes. I hesitated to ask but I needed to know the
answer. “I am still puzzled, Holmes. Why is it that the bags could
not be retrieved before the twelfth?”

Holmes’ eyes flicked open and he
leapt from his chair, saying, “Watson, old fellow, I am much
obliged.” He now began to pace the length of our sitting room as he
appeared to be fitting the pieces of the puzzle together in his
head.

Pausing briefly, he asked, “Yes…
why indeed? Consider this, Watson. Tindall is a guard on a train
that has valuables locked away in a safe… a safe that requires two
keys to open it. Moriarty offers Tindall and Carter a hundred
sovereigns each for impressions of the keys. The robbery, whatever
it might be, must have taken place some little while before the
twelfth.”

I thought for a moment. “So,
when picking up the bags containing the bombs and scrap iron, they
would not be concerned by the weight; they would think it to be the
gold!”

Holmes smiled, saying,
“Precisely, Watson. Carter, it seems, was a little too eager to see
his prize. He fatally opened the bag but a few yards from where he
had retrieved it. Tindall would, no doubt, have done the same.
Having reflected upon this, I believe now that both men were to be
killed not because they could identify Moriarty, but to silence
them! It was to hide the fact that they had made the impressions of
the keys. Remember, no keys had gone missing. Nobody at Liverpool
Street Station would ever know of this betrayal of trust.”

I was still confused. “So, you
believe the robbery took place sometime before the twelfth, either
whilst the train was moving, with Tindall travelling as the guard,
or once it had arrived at Liverpool Street Station?”

Holmes stood for a moment and
considered my question. “Yes… although the thieves would have had
little time to carry out their activities at Liverpool Street.
There would have been too many eyes and they also risked discovery.
It had to be done whilst the train was travelling towards
London.”

I pondered Holmes’ words before
asking, “But surely, once the safe was opened at Liverpool Street,
the theft would have been immediately discovered and the finger of
guilt pointed squarely at Tindall?”

Holmes returned to his chair,
saying, “Yes, that is indeed most troubling.

He sat for several minutes
before continuing, “I sent a telegram to Mycroft when we first
became aware of this case, simply to advise him of the folly of
blaming anarchists for the explosions. I know that he has the ear
of the Special Branch. However, today, I despatched another to him.
I am in need of his counsel in this matter and I have invited him
to take a glass of sherry with us tomorrow morning, at half past
eleven.”

I felt my brows draw downwards
slightly as I said, “But Mycroft does not like Sherry!”

Holmes turned to me with a
wicked grin, saying simply, “Precisely!”

Promptly, at half past eleven
the next morning, the sound of a Hansom pulling up to our door in
the street below and a familiar tread on the stairs announced the
arrival of Mycroft Holmes. A few moments later, Mycroft swept in,
quickly depositing his coat and hat before settling into a
chair.

"I see that you still persist in
schoolboy humour, Sherlock. Why else would you attempt to taunt
me?" asked Mycroft, with no malice.

Holmes lowered his copy of 'The
Times' and simply smiled, saying, "Mycroft, I cannot resist... but
I do need your counsel. This matter at Liverpool Street, it has
taken something of a twist. There appears to have been a robbery
that has, as yet, been undetected."

Mycroft took from his case a
cigar and neatly clipped the end before lighting it. He now sat
back as Holmes recounted all that had occurred. At the end, Mycroft
was silent for perhaps two minutes before saying, "Yes, most
curious. I am indebted to you for the information regarding
Moriarty, the Special Branch was convinced it was the work of
anarchists. This man, Tindall, he is being held securely?"

Holmes nodded. "Yes, Lestrade
has him under lock and key at Bow Street. Perhaps now is the time
that we might use him to flush out Moriarty. Consider this,
Mycroft. Moriarty must now be aware that the second bag has failed
to explode. As such, one of the men who knows of the robbery still
lives and can reveal this to the authorities. Tindall, under our
guidance, can contact Moriarty with a demand for payment to ensure
his silence."

I watched Mycroft as he
considered Holmes’ proposition. In truth, I was concerned, saying,
"Surely, this puts Tindall at considerable risk? To ensure his
silence, there is but one way in her book."

Holmes nodded, saying, "Yes, but
as this man is but one step from the gallows, he will, I believe,
comply."

Mycroft nodded and drew on his
cigar. "I have to declare an interest here, Sherlock. His Majesty's
Government uses the railways as a secure way to transport gold
bullion. However, I am unaware of any such movement during the week
leading up to the presumed robbery." Mycroft paused, saying, almost
to himself, "That is something that I must determine once back in
Whitehall."

Rising from his chair and
donning his coat and hat, Mycroft addressed his brother. "Keep me
informed regarding your plans for Tindall. In the meantime, I will
make enquiries regarding any Government shipments." With a nod in
my direction, Mycroft swept out of our rooms.

Holmes was now looking fixedly
at some point in the distance, deep in thought. Only the occasional
plume of blue smoke from his lips showed that he was, indeed,
conscious. He remained thus for, perhaps, five minutes before
turning to me and asking, "What might prevent a robbery from being
discovered, Watson? Why was the package not found to be missing
once the train had reached its destination?" Holmes took another
long pull on his pipe before adding, "I believe that there must
have been some form of substitution... but why has it not yet been
discovered?"

I sat and thought for a few
moments before saying. "Well, perhaps, for some reason, the package
has yet to be opened... or perhaps it went directly into a bank
vault and remains unopened."

Holmes nodded slowly, saying,
"Yes, that is something that I had considered."

We took luncheon and then
settled back in our chairs to read a little. The ringing of our
door bell and the appearance of Mrs Hudson at our door, clutching
an envelope, stirred Holmes to look up from his paper.

Mrs Hudson proffered the
envelope, saying, "A government messenger brought this, sir. He
said it was urgent."

Holmes leapt from his chair,
thanked Mrs Hudson and then quickly tore open the envelope. Turning
to me, his eyes bright, Holmes said, “Five thousand pounds in gold
sovereigns, bound for Imperial troops in South Africa, was sent by
train to Southampton via Liverpool Street on the eleventh.
Mycroft.”

I spluttered, "Five... five
thousand sovereigns! Great Heavens, Holmes!"

Holmes pursed his lips, saying,
"Yes... and if indeed they have been stolen and a substitution has
been made, the theft will not be discovered for several weeks, not
until the ship docks in South Africa." Holmes paused for a few
moments before continuing, "We must return to Liverpool Street
tomorrow, Watson. I need to examine the railway carriage that
contains the safe." With that, Holmes took out his silver pencil
and notebook and dashed off a telegram before ringing for Mrs
Hudson.

The following morning I found
Holmes pacing our sitting room like a caged tiger. After a few
minutes of this, I could stand no more. "Holmes, for pity's sake,
desist! This constant pacing is good for neither your health nor
mine!"

Holmes regarded me with an
intense look, it was clear that he was in torment. He needed to be
once more active and, when our doorbell rang in the hallway below,
he sprang like a startled gazelle down the stairs to answer the
door.

A few moments later, he returned
in triumph, holding aloft a telegram, saying, "Progress, Watson!
Progress! The telegram I sent last evening was to the station
master at Liverpool Street asking him to locate the secure railway
carriage used on the eleventh. Fortunately for us, the company
keeps shunting records of the rolling stock used for each journey.
The carriage that is of interest to us is in a siding close to the
station."

With that, Holmes leapt towards
the coat-stand, gathering his coat and hat before thundering down
the stairs. I had little option but to follow, although at a
somewhat gentler pace. As I closed the front door, I could see that
Holmes had already hailed a Hansom and was beckoning me to join
him. Impatiently, he shouted, "Come along, Watson! We must make
haste!" 

As fast as I could, I climbed
into the cab only to be thrown backwards as Holmes hammered upon
the roof of the cab to encourage the cabbie to begin his journey.
As we neared Liverpool Street Station, I could see that Holmes’
eyes were burning like coals. Barely had the cab stopped when
Holmes ran from the cab leaving me to toss the cabbie a shilling.
By the time I had caught up with him, he had already asked
directions to the siding which housed the carriage and was again
beckoning me to follow.

Whilst Holmes ran ahead, I could
only manage a brisk walking pace. My wounds from my service in
India continued to take a toll on my fitness. Arriving at the
carriage, I had to lean against it whilst I regained my breath.
Holmes was keen to begin his examination but seeing my distress
seemed to have a steadying effect upon him.

Holmes patted my arm, saying,
"I'm sorry, Watson. I have allowed my enthusiasm to overshadow my
duty as a friend. Rest a moment."

A minute or so had now passed
and I was, for the most part, recovered. I shook my head, saying,
"No, no... continue, Holmes. I am now refreshed."

Holmes smiled and half turned
the dull, brass handle that opened the door to the carriage. Once
inside, I was surprised by how little light there was. I then
realised that, of course, for security, there were no windows. The
only light came from tiny panes of glass set high in the raised
section of the roof. However, after thirty seconds or so, our eyes
had become adjusted to the gloom. Holmes made his way through the
carriage, passing through two stout doors which had, in turn, iron
bands and fixings for added strength. At last we were in the
section of the carriage which contained a large, black painted,
iron safe. It was positioned against the wall and was bolted
securely to both the wall and the floor. The door, I could see, had
two separate keyholes, each edged in gilt paint. The gold lettering
upon the door proudly announced the safe to be the product of ‘The
Imperial & Colonial Safe Company'. From the centre of the door
protruded a large, brass knob in the form of a fist holding a metal
bar.