card at him. 'See the auctioneer gets this.' Michaelis shrugged and fought his way through to the rostrum where he gave the card to one of the auctioneer's assistants. I walked up the stairs and stood where I could easily be seen. The auctioneer was in mid-spate, selling an eighteen-place Crown Derby dinner service; he took the card which was thrust under his nose, turned it over, looked up at me and nodded, and then continued with hardly a break in his chant. Michaelis came back. 'What's the panic?' 'We must stop the sale of that railway.' 'I'm all for that,' he said. 'But what's your interest?' The auctioneer's hammer came down with a sharp crack. 'Sold!' 'It's too complicated to tell you now.'
The auctioneer had handed over to his assistant and was coming towards the stairs. 'It'll have to keep.' The auctioneer came up the stairs.
'What can I do for you-er-' He glanced at the card-'Mr. Jaggard.' 'I represent Penelope and Gillian Ashton. The model railway in the attic mustn't be sold.' He frowned. 'Well, I don't know about that.' I said, 'Can't we go somewhere a bit more quiet while I explain?' He nodded and pointed up the stairs, so we went into one of the bedrooms. He said, 'You say you represent the Ashton sisters?' 'That's right.' 'Can you prove that?' 'Not with anything I carry with me. But I can give you written authority if you need it.' 'On your signature?' 'Yes.' He shook his head. 'Sorry, Mr. Jaggard, but that's not good enough. I was engaged by Penelope Ashton to sell the contents of this house. I can't vary that agreement without her authority. If you can give me a letter from her, that's different.' 'She's not easy to get hold of at short notice. She's in the United States.' 'I see. Then there's nothing to be done.' Something in my expression caused him to add quickly, 'Mr.
Jaggard, I don't know you. Now, I'm a professional man, engaged to conduct this sale. I can't possibly take instructions from any Tom, Dick or Harry who comes here telling me what to do or what not to do.
I really don't conduct my business that way. Besides, the railway is one of the plums of the sale. The press is very interested; it makes a nice filler for a columnist.' 'Then what do you suggest? Would you take instruction from Miss Ashton's legal adviser?' 'Her solicitor?
Yes, I might do that.' He frowned perplexedly. 'This all appears very odd to me. It seems, from what you say, that Miss Ashton knows nothing about this and it is something you are taking upon yourself. But if I have written instructions from her solicitor, then I'll withdraw the railway.' 'Thank you,' I said. 'I'll get in touch with him. Oh, by the way, what's the reserve price?' He was affronted. 'I really can't tell you that,' he said coldly. 'And now you must excuse me. There are some important pieces coming up which I must handle myself.' He turned to walk away, and I said desperately, 'Can you tell me when the railway will come up for sale?' 'Things are going briskly.' He looked at his watch. 'I'd say about three this afternoon.' He walked out. 'A telephone,' I said. 'My kingdom for a telephone.' 'There's one next door in Ashton's bedroom.' Michaelis looked at me a little oddly.
'This sudden interest in model railways doesn't seem kosher to me.' I had a sudden thought. 'Where are those schedules?' 'In the attic; on a shelf under the control console. There are a dozen.' 'I want you in the attic on the double. Keep an eye on that railway and especially on those schedules. I don't want anything removed and I want note taken of anyone who takes a special interest. Now move.' I went into Ashton's room and attacked the telephone. For the first time Ogilvie let me down; he wasn't in the office and no one knew where he was or when he'd be back. Neither was he at home. I left messages to say he should ring me at the Ashton house as soon as possible. There were more frustrations. Mr. Veasey of Michelmore, Veasey and Templeton, was away in the fastness of Wales talking to a valued but bedridden client. His clerk would not make a decision in the matter, and neither would any of the partners. They did say they would try to get hold of Veasey by telephone and I had to be satisfied with that. I had no great hopes of success-Veasey didn't know me and I had no standing. I went up to the attic and found Michaelis brooding over the railway.
Several small boys were larking about and being chased off by a Securicor guard. 'Any suspects?' 'Only Hartman. He's been checking through those schedules all morning.' He nodded in the direction of the control console. 'There he is.' Hartman was a broad-shouldered man of less than average height with a shock of white hair and a nut-brown lined face. He looked rather like Einstein might have looked if Einstein had been an American businessman. At that moment he was poring over one of the schedules and frowning. I said, 'You're sure that is Hartman?' 'Oh, yes. I met him three years ago at a Model Railway Exhibition. What the hell are you really up to, Malcolm?' I looked at the railway. 'You're the expert Are there any other peculiarities about this other than the schedules?' Michaelis stared at the spider web of rails. 'It did occur to me that there's an excessive number of sidings and marshalling yards.' 'Yes,' I said thoughtfully. 'There would be.' 'Why would there be?' Michaelis was baffled. 'Ashton was a clever bastard,' I said. 'He wanted to hide something so he stuck it right under our noses. Do you know how a computer works?' 'In a vague sort of way.' I said, 'Supposing you instruct a computer that A=5. That tells the computer to take that number five and put it in a location marked A. Suppose you gave the instruction C=A+B. That tells the computer to take whatever number is in A, add it to whatever number is in B, and put the result in C.' I jerked my head towards the railway. 'I think that's what this contraption is doing.' Michaelis gasped. 'A mechanical computer!'
'Yes. And those schedules are the programs which run it-but God knows what they're about. Tell me, how many different kinds of rolling stock are there in the system? I'd say ten.' 'You'd be wrong. I counted sixty-three.' 'Hell!' I thought about it a little more. 'No, by God, I'm right! Ten for the numbers 0 to 9; twenty-six for the letters of the alphabet, and the rest for mathematical signs and punctuation.
This bloody thing can probably talk English.' 'I think you're nuts,' said Michaelis. I said, 'When Ashton was shot he couldn't talk but he was trying to tell me something. He pulled something from his pocket and tried to give it to me. It was a railway timetable.' 'That's pretty thin,' said Michaelis. 'Larry had one, too.' 'But why should a man in his last extremity try to give me, of all things, a railway timetable? I think he was trying to tell me something.' 'I can see why you want the sale stopped,' admitted Michaelis. 'It's a nutty idea, but you may be right.' 'I haven't got very far,' I said gloomily.
'Ashton's law firm won't play and Ogilvie's gone missing. I'd better try him again.' So I did, but with no joy. I tried every place I thought he might be-his clubs, the restaurant he had once taken me to, then back to the office and his home again. No Ogilvie. At half past two Michaelis sought me out. 'They're about to start bidding on the railway. What are you going to do?' 'Make another call.' I rang my bank manager, who said, 'And what can I do for you this afternoon, Mr.
Jaggard?' 'Later today I'm going to write a largish cheque. There won't be enough funds to cover it, either in my current account or in the deposit account. I don't want it to bounce.' 'I see. How much will the cheque be for?' 'Perhaps?20,000.' I thought of Hartman. 'Maybe as much as?25,000. I don't quite know.' 'That's a lot of money, Mr.
Jaggard.' I said, 'You know the state of my financial health, and you know I can cover it, not immediately but in a few weeks.' 'In effect, what you're asking for is a bridging loan for, say, a month.' 'That's it.' 'I don't see any difficulty there. We'll accept your cheque, but try to keep it down; and come in tomorrow-we'll need your signature.'
'Thanks.' I put down the telephone knowing that if I was wrong about the railway I was about to lose a lot of money. I couldn't see Ogilvie dipping into the department's funds to buy an elaborate toy, and the only person who might be happy about it would be Michaelis. I went into the hall to see a small crowd gathered by the rostrum listening to a man talking. Michaelis whispered, 'They've got old Hempson from Model Railway News to give a pep- talk. I suppose they think that'll drive up the price.' Hempson was saying, '… core of the system is the most remarkable console I have ever seen, using the ultimate in modern technology. It is this which makes this example of the art unique and it is to be hoped that the system will be sold as a complete unit. It would be a disaster if such a fine example should be broken up. Thank you.' He stepped down to a low murmur of agreement, and I saw Hartman nodding in approval. The auctioneer stepped up and lifted his gavel. 'Ladies and gentlemen: you have just heard Mr.
Hempson who is an acknowledged expert, and his opinion counts. So I am about to ask for bids for the complete system. It would be normal to do this on site, as it were, but even in so large a house the attic is not big enough to hold both the exhibit and the crowd gathered here.
However, you have all had the opportunity of examining this fine example of the model-maker's art, and on the table over there is a representative collection of the rolling stock.' He raised his gavel.
'Now what am I bid for the complete system? Who will start the bidding at?20,000?' There was a sigh-a collective exhalation of breath.
'Come,' said the auctioneer cajolingly. 'You just heard Mr. Hempson.
Who will bid?20,000? No one? Who will bid?18.000?' He had no takers at that, and gradually his starting price
