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“First-class,” the man answered.
The guard turned the handle of the nearest door. In the carriage, whichhe had opened, there sat a small man with a cigar in his mouth. Hisappearance seems to have impressed itself upon the guard’s memory, forhe was prepared, afterwards, to describe or to identify him. He was aman of thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, dressed in some greymaterial, sharp-nosed, alert, with a ruddy, weather-beaten face, and asmall, closely cropped black beard. He glanced up as the door wasopened. The tall man paused with his foot upon the step.
“This is a smoking compartment. The lady dislikes smoke,” said he,looking round at the guard.
“All right! Here you are, sir!” said John Palmer. He slammed the door ofthe smoking carriage, opened that of the next one, which was empty, andthrust the two travellers in. At the same moment he sounded his whistleand the wheels of the train began to move. The man with the cigar was atthe window of his carriage, and said something to the guard as he rolledpast him, but the words were lost in the bustle of the departure. Palmerstepped into the guard’s van, as it came up to him, and thought no moreof the incident.
Twelve minutes after its departure the train reached Willesden Junction,where it stopped for a very short interval. An examination of thetickets has made it certain that no one either joined or left it at thistime, and no passenger was seen to alight upon the platform. At 5.14 thejourney to Manchester was resumed, and Rugby was reached at 6.50, theexpress being five minutes late.
At Rugby the attention of the station officials was drawn to the factthat the door of one of the first-class carriages was open. Anexamination of that compartment, and of its neighbour, disclosed aremarkable state of affairs.
The smoking carriage in which the short, red-faced man with the blackbeard had been seen was now empty. Save for a half-smoked cigar, therewas no trace whatever of its recent occupant. The door of this carriagewas fastened. In the next compartment, to which attention had beenoriginally drawn, there was no sign either of the gentleman with theAstrakhan collar or of the young lady who accompanied him. All threepassengers had disappeared. On the other hand, there was found upon thefloor of this carriage—the one in which the tall traveller and the ladyhad been—a young man, fashionably dressed and of elegant appearance. Helay with his knees drawn up, and his head resting against the furtherdoor, an elbow upon either seat. A bullet had penetrated his heart andhis death must have been instantaneous. No one had seen such a man enterthe train, and no railway ticket was found in his pocket, neither werethere any markings upon his linen, nor papers nor personal propertywhich might help to identify him. Who he was, whence he had come, andhow he had met his end were each as great a mystery as what had occurredto the three people who had started an hour and a half before fromWillesden in those two compartments.
I have said that there was no personal property which might help toidentify him, but it is true that there was one peculiarity about thisunknown young man which was much commented upon at the time. In hispockets were found no fewer than six valuable gold watches, three in thevarious pockets of his waistcoat, one in his ticket-pocket, one in hisbreast-pocket, and one small one set in a leather strap and fastenedround his left wrist. The obvious explanation that the man was apickpocket, and that this was his plunder, was discounted by the factthat all six were of American make, and of a type which is rare inEngland. Three of them bore the mark of the Rochester WatchmakingCompany; one was by Mason, of Elmira; one was unmarked; and the smallone, which was highly jewelled and ornamented, was from Tiffany, of NewYork. The other contents of his pocket consisted of an ivory knife witha corkscrew by Rodgers, of Sheffield; a small circular mirror, one inchin diameter; a re-admission slip to the Lyceum theatre; a silver boxfull of vesta matches, and a brown leather cigar-case containing twocheroots—also two pounds fourteen shillings in money. It was clear,then, that whatever motives may have led to his death, robbery was notamong them. As already mentioned, there were no markings upon the man’slinen, which appeared to be new, and no tailor’s name upon his coat. Inappearance he was young, short, smooth-cheeked, and delicately featured.One of his front teeth was conspicuously stopped with gold.
On the discovery of the tragedy an examination was instantly made of thetickets of all passengers, and the number of the passengers themselveswas counted. It was found that only three tickets were unaccounted for,corresponding to the three travellers who were missing. The express wasthen allowed to proceed, but a new guard was sent with it, and JohnPalmer was detained as a witness at Rugby. The carriage which includedthe two compartments in question was uncoupled and side-tracked. Then,on the arrival of Inspector Vane, of Scotland Yard, and of Mr.Henderson, a detective in the service of the railway company, anexhaustive inquiry was made into all the circumstances.
That crime had been committed was certain. The bullet, which appeared tohave come from a small pistol or revolver, had been fired from somelittle distance, as there was no scorching of the clothes. No weapon wasfound in the compartment (which finally disposed of the theory ofsuicide), nor was there any sign of the brown leather bag which theguard had seen in the hand of the tall gentleman. A lady’s parasol wasfound upon the rack, but no other trace was to be seen of the travellersin
either of the sections. Apart from the crime, the question of how orwhy three passengers (one of them a lady) could get out of the train,and one other get in during the unbroken run between Willesden andRugby, was one which excited the utmost curiosity among the generalpublic, and gave rise to much speculation in the London Press.
John Palmer, the guard, was able at the inquest to give some evidencewhich threw a little light upon the matter. There was a spot betweenTring and Cheddington, according to his statement, where, on account ofsome repairs to the line, the train had for a few minutes slowed down toa pace not exceeding eight or ten miles an hour. At that place it mightbe possible for a man, or even for an exceptionally active woman, tohave left the train without serious injury. It was true that a gang ofplatelayers was there, and that they had seen nothing, but it was theircustom to stand in the middle between the metals, and the open carriagedoor was upon the far side, so that it was conceivable that someonemight have alighted unseen, as the darkness would by that time bedrawing in. A steep embankment would instantly screen anyone who sprangout from the observation of the navvies.
The guard also deposed that there was a good deal of movement upon theplatform at Willesden Junction, and that though it was certain that noone had either joined or left the train there, it was still quitepossible that some of the passengers might have changed unseen from onecompartment to another. It was by no means uncommon for a gentleman tofinish his cigar in a smoking carriage and then to change to a cleareratmosphere. Supposing that the man with the black beard had done so atWillesden (and the half-smoked cigar upon the floor seemed to favour thesupposition), he would naturally go into the nearest section, whichwould bring him into the company of the two other actors in this drama.Thus the first stage of the affair might be surmised without any greatbreach of probability. But what the second stage had been, or how thefinal one had been arrived at, neither the guard nor the experienceddetective officers could suggest.
A careful examination of the line between Willesden and Rugby resultedin one discovery which might or might not have a bearing upon thetragedy. Near Tring, at the very place where the train slowed down,there was found at the bottom of the embankment a small pocketTestament, very shabby and worn. It was printed by the Bible Society ofLondon, and bore an inscription: “From John to Alice. Jan. 13th, 1856,”upon the fly-leaf. Underneath was written: “James, July 4th, 1859,” andbeneath that again: “Edward. Nov. 1st, 1869,” all the entries being inthe same handwriting. This was the only clue, if it could be called aclue, which the police obtained, and the coroner’s verdict of “Murder bya person or persons unknown” was the unsatisfactory ending of a singularcase. Advertisement, rewards, and inquiries proved equally fruitless,and nothing could be found which was solid enough to form the basis fora profitable investigation.
It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that no theories wereformed to account for the facts. On the contrary, the Press, both inEngland and in America, teemed with suggestions and suppositions, mostof which were obviously absurd. The fact that the watches were ofAmerican make, and some peculiarities in connection with the goldstopping of his front tooth, appeared to indicate that the deceased wasa citizen of the United States, though his linen, clothes, and bootswere undoubtedly of British manufacture. It was surmised, by some, thathe was concealed under the seat, and that, being discovered, he was forsome reason, possibly because he had overheard their guilty secrets, putto death by his fellow-passengers. When coupled with generalities as tothe ferocity and cunning of anarchical and other secret societies, thistheory sounded as plausible as any.
The fact that he should be without a ticket would be consistent withthe idea of concealment, and it was well known that women played aprominent part in the Nihilistic propaganda. On the other hand, it wasclear, from the guard’s statement, that the man must have been hiddenthere _before_ the others arrived, and how unlikely the coincidence thatconspirators should stray exactly into the very compartment in which aspy was already concealed! Besides, this explanation ignored the man inthe smoking carriage, and gave no reason at all for his simultaneousdisappearance. The police had little difficulty in showing that such atheory would not cover the facts, but they were unprepared in theabsence of evidence to advance any alternative explanation.
There was a letter in the _Daily Gazette_, over the signature of awell-known criminal investigator, which gave rise to considerablediscussion at the time. He had formed a hypothesis which had at leastingenuity to recommend it, and I cannot do better than append it in hisown words.
“Whatever may be the truth,” said he, “it must depend upon somebizarre and rare combination of events, so we need have no hesitation inpostulating such events in our explanation. In the absence of data wemust abandon the analytic or scientific method of investigation, andmust approach it in the synthetic fashion. In a word, instead of takingknown events and deducing from them what has occurred, we must build upa fanciful explanation if it will only be consistent with known events.We can then test this explanation by any fresh facts which may arise. Ifthey all fit into their places, the probability is that we are upon theright track, and with each fresh fact this probability increases in ageometrical progression until the evidence becomes final and convincing.
“Now, there is one most remarkable and suggestive fact which has notmet with the attention which it deserves. There is a local train runningthrough Harrow and King’s Langley, which is timed in such a way that theexpress must have overtaken it at or about the period when it eased downits speed to eight miles an hour on account of the repairs of the line.The two trains would at that time be travelling in the same direction ata similar rate of speed and upon parallel lines. It is within everyone’sexperience how, under such circumstances, the occupant of each carriagecan see very plainly the passengers in the other carriages opposite tohim. The lamps of the express had been lit at Willesden, so that eachcompartment was brightly illuminated, and most visible to an observerfrom outside.
“Now, the sequence of events as I reconstruct them would be after thisfashion. This young man with the abnormal number of watches was alone inthe carriage of the slow train. His ticket, with his papers and glovesand other things, was, we will suppose, on the seat beside him. He wasprobably an American, and also probably a man of weak intellect. Theexcessive wearing of jewellery is an early symptom in some forms ofmania.
“As he sat watching the carriages of the express which were (onaccount of the state of the line) going at the same pace as himself, hesuddenly saw some people in it whom he knew. We will suppose for thesake of our theory that these people were a woman whom he loved and aman whom he hated—and who in return hated him. The young man wasexcitable and impulsive. He opened the door of his carriage, steppedfrom the footboard of the local train to the footboard of the express,opened the other door, and made his way into the presence of these twopeople. The feat (on the supposition that the trains were going at thesame pace) is by no means so perilous as it might appear.
“Having now got our young man without his ticket into the carriage inwhich the elder man and the young woman are travelling, it is notdifficult to imagine that a violent scene ensued. It is possible thatthe pair were also Americans, which is the more probable as the mancarried a weapon—an unusual thing in England. If our supposition ofincipient mania is correct, the young man is likely to have assaultedthe other. As the upshot of the quarrel the elder man shot the intruder,and then made his escape from the carriage, taking the young lady withhim. We will suppose that all this happened very rapidly, and that thetrain was still going at so slow a pace that it was not difficult forthem to leave it. A woman might leave a train going at eight miles anhour. As a matter of fact, we know that this woman _did_ do so.
“And now we have to fit in the man in the smoking carriage. Presumingthat we have, up to this point, reconstructed the tragedy correctly, weshall find nothing in this other man to cause us to reconsider ourconclusions. According to my theory, this man saw the young fello
w crossfrom one train to the other, saw him open the door, heard thepistol-shot, saw the two fugitives spring out on to the line, realizedthat murder had been done, and sprang out himself in pursuit. Why he hasnever been heard of since—whether he met his own death in the pursuit,or whether, as is more likely, he was made to realize that it was not acase for his interference—is a detail which we have at present no meansof explaining. I acknowledge that there are some difficulties in theway. At first sight, it might seem improbable that at such a moment amurderer would burden himself in his flight with a brown leather bag. Myanswer is that he was well aware that if the bag were found his identitywould be established. It was absolutely necessary for him to take itwith him. My theory stands or falls upon one point, and I call upon therailway company to make strict inquiry as to whether a ticket was foundunclaimed in the local train through Harrow and King’s Langley upon the18th of March. If such a ticket were found my case is proved. If not, mytheory may still be the correct one, for it is conceivable either thathe travelled without a ticket or that his ticket was lost.”
To this elaborate and plausible hypothesis the answer of the policeand of the company was, first, that no such ticket was found; secondly,that the slow train would never run parallel to the express; and,thirdly, that the local train had been stationary in King’s LangleyStation when the express, going at fifty miles an hour, had flashed pastit. So perished the only satisfying explanation, and five years haveelapsed without supplying a new one. Now, at last, there comes astatement which covers all the facts, and which must be regarded asauthentic. It took the shape of a letter dated from New York, andaddressed to the same criminal investigator whose theory I have quoted.It is given here in extenso, with the exception of the two openingparagraphs, which are personal in their nature:—
“You’ll excuse me if I’m not very free with names. There’s less reasonnow than there was five years ago when mother was still living. But forall that, I had rather cover up our tracks all I can. But I owe you anexplanation, for if your idea of it was wrong, it was a mighty ingeniousone all the same. I’ll have to go back a little so as you may understandall about it.
“My people came from Bucks, England, and emigrated to the States inthe early fifties. They settled in Rochester, in the State of New York,where my father ran a large dry goods store. There were only two sons:myself, James, and my brother, Edward. I was ten years older than mybrother, and after my father died I sort of took the place of a fatherto him, as an elder brother would. He was a bright, spirited boy, andjust one of the most beautiful creatures that ever lived. But there wasalways a soft spot in him, and it was like mould in cheese, for itspread and spread, and nothing that you could do would stop it. Mothersaw it just as clearly as I did, but she went on spoiling him all thesame, for he had such a way with him that you could refuse him nothing.I did all I could to hold him in, and he hated me for my pains.
“At last he fairly got his head, and nothing that we could do wouldstop him. He got off into New York, and went rapidly from bad to worse.At first he was only fast, and then he was criminal; and then, at theend of a year or two, he was one of the most notorious young crooks inthe city. He had formed a friendship with Sparrow MacCoy, who was at thehead of his profession as a bunco-steerer, green goods-man, and generalrascal. They took to card-sharping, and frequented some of the besthotels in New York. My brother was an excellent actor (he might havemade an honest name for himself if he had chosen), and he would take theparts of a young Englishman of title, of a simple lad from the West, orof a college undergraduate, whichever suited Sparrow MacCoy’s purpose.And then one day he dressed himself as a girl, and he carried it off sowell, and made himself such a valuable decoy, that it was theirfavourite game afterwards. They had made it right with Tammany and withthe police, so it seemed as if nothing could ever stop them, for thosewere in the days before the Lexow Commission, and if you only had apull, you could do pretty nearly everything you wanted.
“And nothing would have stopped them if they had only stuck to cardsand New York, but they must needs come up Rochester way, and forge aname upon a check. It was my brother that did it, though everyone knewthat it was under the influence of Sparrow MacCoy. I bought up thatcheck, and a pretty sum it cost me. Then I went to my brother, laid itbefore him on the table, and swore to him that I would prosecute if hedid not clear out of the country. At first he simply laughed. I couldnot prosecute, he said, without breaking our mother’s heart, and he knewthat I would not do that. I made him understand, however, that ourmother’s heart was being broken in any case, and that I had set firm onthe point that I would rather see him in a Rochester gaol than in a NewYork hotel. So at last he gave in, and he made me a solemn promise thathe would see Sparrow MacCoy no more, that he would go to Europe, andthat he would turn his hand to any honest trade that I helped him toget. I took him down right away to an old family friend, Joe Willson,who is an exporter of American watches and clocks, and I got him to giveEdward an agency in London, with a small salary and a 15 per cent.commission on all business. His manner and appearance were so good thathe won the old man over at once, and within a week he was sent off toLondon with a case full of samples.
“It seemed to me that this business of the check had really given mybrother a fright, and that there was some chance of his settling downinto an honest line of life. My mother had spoken with him, and what shesaid had touched him, for she had always been the best of mothers tohim, and he had been the great sorrow of her life. But I knew that thisman Sparrow MacCoy had a great influence over Edward, and my chance ofkeeping the lad straight lay in breaking the connection between them. Ihad a friend in the New York detective force, and through him I kept awatch upon MacCoy. When within a fortnight of my brother’s sailing Iheard that MacCoy had taken a berth in the _Etruria_, I was as certainas if he had told me that he was going over to England for the purposeof coaxing Edward back again into the ways that he had left. In aninstant I had resolved to go also, and to put my influence againstMacCoy’s. I knew it was a losing fight, but I thought, and my motherthought, that it was my duty. We passed the last night together inprayer for my success, and she gave me her own Testament that my fatherhad given her on the day of their marriage in the Old Country, so that Imight always wear it next my heart.
