Sherlock Holmes and the Treasure Train

manner.

'An investigation would involve my coming in contact with that man again . . .'

'Holmes, if we have to remit the insurance money, Chasseur's only problem is loss of face for having the bullion spirited out from under him. This matter has all the elements that I know you love so well. Take that Herefordshire banker Trelawney, for instance.'

'Ezariah Trelawney?' exclaimed Holmes with a lightning glance in my direction. 'What has he to do with it?'

'Trelawney arranged the consortium of west coast banks that provided the gold in the first place. Murdered, you know.'

'We certainly do,' I said forcefully.

Frisbee registered surprise at my vehemence but shrewdly sensed that the wind had shifted and held his silence.

Holmes had risen again and unconsciously retrieved his cherrywood. Chewing on its stem, he stared into space for a moment before returning his intense gaze to Frisbee. 'Sometimes fate steps in,' he stated. 'All right, I'll take on the bullion case on behalf of Inter-Ocean Trust.'

Chapter 5

The Armored Train

ONCE MY FRIEND had committed himself, Claymore Frisbee hastened proceedings by the simple method of saying yes to everything. He seemed plagued by the fear that the great sleuth might change his mind. I could have reassured him on that point, for when Holmes decided on a course of action, he stuck to it with the tenacity of the English bulldog. The banker agreed to arrange an appointment with Richard Ledger, the B & N head of security, and while Holmes was gazing out the bow window considering other necessary lines of investigation, Frisbee handed me an unmarked envelope that had to be a pre-prepared persuasion ploy.

I could guess what it contained. Holmes' habitual reserve was most apparent in his reluctance to consider or discuss money, an enduring neurosis of the English upper middle class. Frisbee, who knew his man, had written a generous check for expenses to nail down the detective's involvement in the bullion problem. Regardless of his motive, I mentally thanked the banker, for this case gave indications of a widespread search and Holmes was sure to involve what his brother, Mycroft, referred to as the 'ragtag army' at his command. When deputizing the shadowland group he used, Holmes seemingly gave no thought to expenditures. However, his methods were not as Croesus like as might seem at first sight. The most precious commodity in the sleuth's opinion was time. 'Who can place a price, Watson, on an hour?' he was wont to ask on occasion, and I must admit that my native frugality could find no response to this.

After the departure of Claymore Frisbee, Holmes was at the desk, a sheaf of foolscap at his elbow and a quill pen in his hand. I knew that Billy would be summoned shortly and dispatched to the cable office with communiques, and throughout London, and in other places as well, the machinery of the great sleuth would grind into action.

Prior to dinner, he revealed some of the thoughts coursing through his superb mind. This delighted me, since it was not a customary procedure so early in the game. It crossed my mind that the bullion robbery being a major coup of the lawless, Holmes must have anticipated being drawn into it. Perhaps he was already more au courant with the matter than I had thought, and indeed, he might have made some plans as to his initial moves before the summons from the B & N Railroad or the entrance of the Inter-Ocean Trust upon the scene.

'Our first step, I fear, will be in a fruitless direction,' he stated with a wry smile. 'No matter, we must make it.'

'Where is the gold?'

He threw me a surprised glance. 'Quite right. The raison d'etre of the robbery is no small matter, and one does not just toddle around town with that much precious metal in one's pocket. It has to be stored somewhere.'

'Your thoughts being that the gold might guild the path to the culprits.'

Again he registered faint surprise. 'Right on, old chap. What other thoughts do you have in mind?'

It was my turn to be surprised. Usually Holmes revealed his ideas almost as though speaking to himself. My questions and comments were the rhythm background to his analytic violins, a leitmotif of the Holmes symphony. Now, with the baton thrust into my hand, I was at a momentary loss but determined to wave it in some direction if only to make my presence known.

'We are not wanting for a motive,' I said. 'Greed inspired by the rare substance that has driven men to desperate deeds throughout history.'

'Or need,' responded Holmes dreamily. 'A beggar might purloin a shilling for fish and chips and a night's lodging, whereas one higher on the social ladder, beset by obligations he cannot meet, risks disgrace for a greater sum.'

'The motive being the same despite the difference in the value of the stolen object,' I echoed.

'Exactly. Please continue, Watson.'

Drat it, I thought. The ball is back in my court.

'You mentioned, Holmes, how well the robbery had been planned. Does that not indicate a knowledge of the terrain and of railway procedure?'

'A shrewd thrust, that last part.'

'Not too revealing, however. Any number of people could have a working knowledge of the B & N.'

''Twould not suffice. It was a special train that was attacked and it ran on a schedule created for it. Normal procedure had little to do with the bullion carrier.'

He had me there and I thought furiously. 'Isn't a key problem the means by which the thieves got on the train? A lot of thought had gone into preventing just that from happening.'

'Considering that our problem involves a train, I will resist the impulse to say that you are on the right track, old fellow.'

Encouraged, a thought came to me. 'Let us assume that the riflemen guards were not part and parcel of the plot.'

'I'll accept that.'

'Then once the freight achieved running speed, it would seem more than difficult to get aboard.'

'Agreed.'

'Then the thieves rode with it from the start.'

'Not an unwieldy theory at all. Really, Watson, you have developed the ratiocinating mind through our long association.'

This being rare praise indeed from Holmes, I plunged ahead. 'Is there not an expression common in America, 'riding the rods'?'

'Relates to traveling hobos.'

'Quite. Could not the two men you picture have been hidden under the boxcar before the engine assumed motion?'

'A possibility. How they would manage to crawl from their place of concealment and gain the roof eludes me, but the inventiveness of the homo sapiens is limitless.'

'The only other thought that comes to mind is that the thieves hid themselves within the boxcar, but that idea is self-defeating as they would have been unable to get out of the securely locked carrier.'

'Your first thought is the one that will bear investigation, good fellow.'

At this point Mrs. Hudson made her presence known. It was time for dinner. This was the day of a most important social gathering, the meeting of the Marylebone Sewing Circle. While the event did not warrant a squib in the Evening Chronicle, it was dear to our landlady's heart. To make amends for her absence from the premises, Mrs. Hudson fairly outdid herself. We were served consomme Marie Stuart and filets de sole Carlton. Then we had thick mutton chops, their ends curled around a broiled kidney and affixed with a toothpick. This led my mind to the subject of claret and I brought forth a bottle of Chateau Lafitte '68, which I had been saving. By the time we dealt with a toothsome