II
‘And so, I only ask that our real names should not be revealed to anyone,’ said Holmes, as he clinked glasses with Zviagin and me. ‘Let your people think we are ordinary detectives you have employed. We were looking for work on the railroad, we became accidentally acquainted and you made us a tempting offer.’
‘What about the railway and engineering senior staff?’ asked Zviagin.
‘Let them think we are your relations. We’ll see how we go.’
‘That’s why, in the absence of a hotel hereabouts, you can stay at my place, all right?’ Zviagin suggested.
‘Of course!’
Our initial conversation and any further talk about the case was now over. A second bottle was placed before us. After spending about an hour in the station buffet, we moved on to Zviagin’s place, put our things away and locked ourselves in with him in his study to plan what we would do.
‘How often do passenger trains pass through here?’ asked Holmes.
‘Twice a day,’ answered Zviagin.
‘And freight trains?’
Zviagin made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
‘When and how they please?’ asked Holmes.
‘Something like that,’ answered Zviagin.
‘Do you suspect anyone?’
‘Everyone!’ said Zviagin sharply.
‘What do you mean by everyone?’ asked Holmes in surprise.
‘It’s simply that I think everyone steals, starting with the bosses at the top, down to the signalman.’
‘If I understand the captain all right, my dear Watson, we will have to deal with half of Russia.’
‘At any rate, the whole of the railroad,’ broke in Zviagin angrily.
Having got some more information out of Zviagin, we took the maps and plans of the railway system going around Lake Baikal and beyond and went to our rooms.
I must have been long asleep while Holmes still pored over timetables and maps. And though he went to sleep after me, he was already at work when I woke up. His notebook, filled with a mass of notes, lay before him.
Seeing that I was awake, he nodded his head at me and said, ‘Get up, Watson. Today, we’re going for a little trip on a freight train.’
‘Now?’
‘No, we’ll spend the day examining the station and storerooms. In the evening, we’ll take a little trip beyond Lake Baikal and return tomorrow.’
III
It was an exhausting day. Sherlock Holmes examined the railway, warehouses, the railway station for freight trains, and drew the conclusion that the system was chaotic enough to make stealing mere child’s play. ‘It would be a miracle if there wasn’t any stealing,’ he said. ‘The first thing that hits you between the eyes is that none of the staff is in their appointed places. It’s a wonder that the station manager and district manager haven’t been stolen!’
‘Perhaps they are not worth stealing,’ I answered.
‘I quite agree, my dear Watson,’ said Holmes, laughing at this quip.
We took a nap after lunch and in the evening went to the railway station. The train conductors and the station staff in general didn’t know us yet, so we easily got the chief conductor of the freight train to let us ride first class round Lake Baikal for less than a rouble. Holmes deliberately rode as a passenger without a ticket, because a passenger without a ticket raised no suspicion.
At ten o’clock at night the train left. It was a dark night and the huge cliffs on our right added to the gloom. Vast Lake Baikal slept peacefully between its rocky shores. In the dark, they were nearly out of sight, except for the gleam of their dark steel reflection in the water.
The train climbed uphill, from time to time stopping at gloomy stations that looked like the lair of bandits, and diving in and out of tunnels.
We stood on one of the platforms at the rear of a carriage in the middle of the train, admiring the picture of a grim Siberian night. About three hours later we arrived at a small railway station. It was about 12.30 in the middle of the night.
Our legs were tired from standing or sitting still, so Sherlock Holmes suggested we stretch our legs along the station platform. Half the lights were out, probably for reasons of economy, and it was dark everywhere. We walked up and down waiting for the departure signal.
Suddenly, a loud male voice yelled in the darkness, ‘D’you hear, Burmistoff, send your locomotive to hell.’
‘I’m coming,’ answered a voice from the engine.
‘Come on, hurry, the vodka is waiting.’
‘But when will you let the train move on?’
‘When we’ve had enough to eat, that’s when I’ll let it go.’
The voices fell silent.
We went up to the locomotive and saw only the stoker inside.
‘When is the train departing?’ Holmes asked him.
‘Only after the engine driver has had his dinner,’ said the stoker imperturbably. ‘Didn’t you see him go off to dinner with the stationmaster?’
‘Did you hear that?’ muttered Holmes, confused and perplexed, when we had gone some way from the engine.
‘I did!’ I answered.
‘Is that what they call a timetable? Let’s see what happens now!’
It was a long wait. The engine driver took two hours over his dinner. Eventually, very unsteady on his feet, he emerged from the station house accompanied by an even more inebriated stationmaster.
‘—it’s those bastards, the correspondents, I fear,’ loudly resonated from the stationmaster, evidently concluding a conversation that had begun earlier. ‘Earlier on, that trash never bothered coming here, it being free- and-easy enough elsewhere. Then came the war and they were here one after another, like evil spirits.’
‘Ye-es,’ drawled the engine driver in his deep bass.
‘But most important, you didn’t know where such fellows are likely to pop up from,’ the stationmaster continued. ‘You even find ’em amongst the military! Turn up, sniff out and disappear.’
‘You should’ve pushed one of ’em under the wheels … like it was an accident.’
‘Brother, you won’t get hold of one of ’em. Too quick, and they always come on a passenger train. How can you tell ’em for what they are? Just as well they don’t rummage about on freight trains or we’d be back in no time on just our wages.’
‘Bloody swine!’ swore the engine driver.
They moved towards the locomotive.
‘How about one for the road?’ suggested the stationmaster. ‘A little cognac?’
‘Why not!’
‘Hey, there, Ivan,’ called out the stationmaster. ‘Cognac and glasses here!’
The two friends disposed themselves on the grass and a few minutes later started drinking again.
We hid behind a carriage and listened.
‘How many carriages did you take?’ we heard the voice of the stationmaster.
‘From Aberyantz?’ asked the driver.
