Sherlock Holmes and the Treasure Train

tankard to one side. 'We will use the regular contact, and if that is not convenient, the post office will do. Sorry to have to put you on to this with such short notice.'

'Yours to command, Mr. Holmes. I'm much convenienced by your associate being on the scene.'

I thought this was a very sporty remark for Wally to make and wondered how I was of assistance to him. It was when we left the barroom of the Red Grouse that it occurred to me that I might not be the associate the young man referred to.

Holmes secured a carriage near the depot and we traveled but a short distance down the river road to the home of Burton Hananish. It was an Elizabethan mansion and as we drew up in front of the hall door, I noted the gleaming waters of the Severn on our right. Our coming had been observed and servants were already waiting. No doubt one of Holmes' innumerable cables had been sent to the establishment, which was obviously forewarned of our arrival.

A staid and proper butler greeted us at the main entry and accepted Holmes' card, though he scarcely glanced at it. Securing our outer apparel, he led us to a spacious and lofty room and the presence of his master.

Perhaps it was my imagination but there seemed to be an unusual silence about the place, as though everyone walked on tiptoe and in fear and trembling. Certainly Hananish, seated in the wheelchair we had been told of, was not an awe-inspiring figure. His aquiline face was kindly, nay quite beautiful, though touched by the inevitable ravages of time. I judged the results of his accident to be in his legs, which were concealed by a rug drawn closely across his waist. The man's hair was completely white, his complexion parchment-like, pallid, entirely colorless. His features were so finely cut and chiseled that they resembled a piece of statuary. As the butler announced us and then disappeared and we walked slowly toward him, Hananish smiled in a welcoming fashion that was marred by the bloodless quality of his lips. There was in the twist of his mouth a touch of the spider-to- the-fly quality that destroyed the classic perfection of his features, revealing a tinge of the sadist. I could well imagine him as a backcountry despot.

Beautifully shaped hands maneuvered his wheelchair closer to a desk of fruitwood and he indicated adjacent chairs with delicate fingers.

'Do be seated, Mr. Holmes . . . Dr. Watson. I am honored by your presence.' As we mumbled suitable greetings, a gentle bewilderment segued into his tone. 'Knowing of the busy and active life you gentlemen lead, I'm at a loss as to how I can assist you. However, there must be something I can do which will become most apparent after Mr. Holmes explains it.' His mask-like elderly face, singularly devoid of wrinkles, favored me with another tight smile. 'I rather lean on your words, Dr. Watson, for you frequently write that all is clear after one of your friend's explanations.'

There was a suggestion of Oriental exaggeration in Hananish's loquaciousness, which Holmes chose to cut through. 'I must disappoint you,' he said. 'Regarding the policy issued by Inter-Ocean on the missing gold shipment, there are some quite ordinary formalities. You know I am investigating the matter for the insurance group.'

Hananish nodded. 'We are—and I speak for the other financial institutions involved as well as myself— grateful for the policy with Inter-Ocean.'

'In what way?'

One white eyebrow, so perfect it might have been plucked, rose questioningly and Holmes continued. 'The gold was turned over to the Birmingham and Northern by your people and was their responsibility until it was delivered to the French.'

'Until it was delivered to the French vessel in Great Yarmouth harbor,' responded the financier.

There was the suggestion of a 'tut-tut' in his voice, which Holmes chose to ignore.

'My point being that if the stolen gold shipment had not been covered by insurance, the railroad would have been responsible.'

'It still is. I'm being overly technical, of course. Our banks are to be reimbursed for the worth of the gold by the Birmingham and Northern. If the gold is not found, they will secure the face value of their insurance policy and transfer the money to us. In effect, the money might just as well come to us from Inter-Ocean.'

Holmes had been nodding through this rather detailed explanation and I sensed impatience in his manner. 'I am interested in the mechanics of this financial transaction. 'If you would learn, consult the expert' is a worthwhile philosophy,' my friend added.

Hananish acknowledged this diplomatic quote with another tight smile that did not reach his eyes. He's a self-styled Caesar, I thought, and it will become common knowledge how he instructed the famous Sherlock Holmes on finance. At least that was how I read the situation then. I learned later I was wrong, no new experience.

'You know of the gold bonds of the Credit Lyonnais?' asked Hananish.

Holmes' expression had a yes-and-no quality, and the banker explained with a gusto surprising from one so frail.

'To facilitate their rapid sale, the French incorporated a proviso that the bonds could be redeemed two years after their issuance in gold. That's pure mumbo-jumbo. Having the bonds redeemable prior to expiration date might just as well have specified francs, but gold is the lure to the investor. Whenever a currency is troubled people run to gold, which is the ultimate currency.'

The man's face had strayed my way and he must have noted a puzzlement for he chose to elaborate on his last sentence. 'You have in your wallet, Doctor, a pound note. Of itself it is valueless, being naught but engraved paper. The fact that it is a medium of exchange for so much gold is what gives it value. The pound sterling is the most stable currency in the world, so it is of no difference whether you have your pound note or its equivalent in gold.'

'The note being more convenient to carry,' I replied, just to indicate that I was aware of the point he was making.

'Of course. But to the investor, the knowledge that he can cash in his bonds for gold produces a comforting feeling. Gold can be buried and hoarded. It is the constant in the fluctuating world of finance.'

'And the French need the metal,' stated Holmes.

'The need is artificial,' replied Hananish. His manner became that of a patient instructor with two backward students, which, no doubt, delighted him. It crossed my mind that it must have pleased Holmes as well since this information seemed most germane to our case at hand. 'The Credit Lyonnais is a very stable banking house. Because of that cursed Netherlands-Sumatra matter, there was a minor swell of panic in the public mind, which has not as yet subsided. The two-year redemption date is close upon us and the French anticipate that nervous investors will be at their door before long to cash in their bonds prior to the expiration date, as is their right. If investors request payment in gold, the Credit Lyonnais had better have it or suffer a mortal blow to its reputation. Gold, in bulk, flows from country to country dependent on history mostly. During the French Revolution, a lot of the metal found its way here. During the far-flung conquests of the Corsican, a lot of it came to France in the same manner as many of their treasures in the Louvre. At one time we were buying heavily from them before the African mines began producing so well. At the moment, English banks have a heavy backlog. When the Credit Lyonnais need became known to me and others, we were glad to enter into an agreement with the French to supply them.'

The banker's tapered fingers gestured expressively as though he had made the whole matter as clear as he could.

'A shrewd piece of business, I would hazard,' said Holmes. 'You could hardly lose unless . . .'

As Holmes' words hung in midair, there was an alarmed reaction from the financier. 'We could not lose, Mr. Holmes.'

'Then the Birmingham and Northern is capable of reimbursing you for the value of the shipment?'

To my amazement, Hananish actually guffawed, something I never expected this frigid man to do. 'Mr. Holmes, you jest. Alvidon Chasseur is on the verge of becoming the leading railroad magnate in England. His rise from ownership of a minor trunk line to his present position is a story-book saga akin to the writings of that colonial Horatio Alger. In any case, he had the shipment insured. You know that.'

Holmes shrugged. 'What about Inter-Ocean? Can they meet the face value of the insurance policy?'

Hananish's unexpected humor disappeared to be replaced by a glacial hauteur. 'You make mock of me, Mr. Holmes. You have had dealings with the company. Your solution of the attempted embezzlement by one of their directors is common knowledge. You can hardly think that Inter-Ocean is shaky.'