Holmes then proceeded to tell them most of that which he had revealed to me the previous evening about the siding and the resting place of the train that had been missing for so long. When he completed that portion of his explanation, he paused to fill and light his pipe. A small murmur arose from the gathering as they digested this most interesting revelation.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Holmes, having his pipe well lit, “what is it that brings us here? When I first heard this curious story, it was not difficult to determine the hiding place of the train, but questions were left unanswered. Why was the train stolen, then why did it reappear? Why was the cargo untouched?
“I surmised that, in regard to the cargo, the thieves made off with the wrong train. Mr. Browne, you will recall that you told me that a mechanical failure of the original engine necessitated the substitute on that morning three years ago. Since all engines are prominently numbered, I theorized the thieves were looking for the number on the replacement engine.
“Now — why the reappearance? The answer is simply because they, the thieves, now need the space. They plan to steal another train and hide it in the ravine where the original rested for all of this time. A secondary question arises. Why is it necessary to remove a train from the main line and hide it away? The answer is that it allows adequate time for the removal of some heavy, bulky or fragile cargo. If the object in question was, for example, a gold shipment — one could simply stop the train, use some explosives to get at the cargo and make off with it in a very few minutes. This was not the case — why?
“The remaining details were revealed by the answer to the telegram that Mr. Browne sent to the Station Master at Plymouth. In brief, I asked him first to check the records of three years past. I needed to determine the contents of the train to which the replacement engine was originally assigned. My second request was for a manifest for all trains leaving Plymouth for one week starting yesterday. The answers, my friends, were most gratifying. First, the train of three years ago, the one that did not leave Plymouth because of the loss of its engine, was a consignment of rare and quite priceless paintings from a private collection in the city of Plymouth that had been donated to the National Gallery in London. The paintings were individually crated and filled three goods wagons to capacity. Further, the crates were wired together to minimize any movement in transit so you can see that unloading such a train would take a fair amount of time, otherwise one would risk damage to the cargo.
“The train Leaving Plymouth today is also a similar consignment of art from the same private collection and destined to the National Gallery. The telegram informed me additionally, that the owner of this private collection had recently died and this train contains the balance of his collection, which he bequeathed to the Gallery. A cursory estimate puts the value of these paintings at somewhere between fifty and sixty thousand pounds.”
“Good, God, Holmes,” Lestrad erupted, “sixty thousand pounds, you could buy half of buy half of Plymouth for that.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Our task then is to lay in wait at Oak Hampton until Mr. Waterhouse signals us that the train has been taken over by the bandits. On my instructions, Mr. Waterhouse will allow the theft to occur, and then notify us. Since the thieves did no harm to the crew of three years past, I feel confident that I am not risking anyone's life with my little scheme.”
“You demand a great deal of leeway, Holmes,” Lestrad grumbled. “I hate going at this blind.”
“The plans cannot be altered from here,” said Holmes, “Indeed it is for that reason I felt the need to keep it a secret until now. You have my apologies, Inspector.”
“Apologies are all well and good, Holmes, but if any of those men should be injured as part of this scheme of yours I’ll be holding you accountable.”
“That was understood from the beginning,” Holmes said. “Once we receive the signal from Mr. Waterhouse, we will proceed south to a point near, but out of sight of the siding. There we will dismount and advance on foot to the ravine. Inspector Lestrad will assume command at that point. I expect we will find upwards of thirty men in the ravine — of which possibly five will be armed and desperate enough to fire on us.”
For the next little while there ensued a babble of conversation as the revelations were discussed, then Lestrad took over and laid out a plan of action.
We arrived in Oak Hampton on schedule and restlessly waited out the interval. As if on cue from a prewritten script, the local Station Master ran out of his office, waving above his head the message from Mr. Waterhouse that sent us flying down the tracks.
The engineer stopped the train on a slight curve. We were in a trench dug about twenty feet into the undulating terrain. Mr. Browne said that the siding was just out of sight — about two hundred yards beyond our location. Lestrad split his men into two groups. One would proceed straight down the rails and engage any men found there. The other would climb the left side bank and search through the woods for the missing train.
Holmes and I elected to follow the second group. We kept well behind the police as we struggled for solid footing in the rough, overgrown ground. Homes was well off to my left, helping Mr. Browne. I did my best to estimate our distance, but it was a fruitless task. The first I knew of any event was when I hear a volley of rifle fire from straight ahead. It was soon joined by more distant gunfire from the group approaching the siding.
The rifle fire was intense and steady for a short while. All I could do was to duck down and wait. This maneuver worked well for me until suddenly a running figure appeared directly to my front. He did not see me and so ran full tilt into my crouching form. He did not have his firearm, but he had two very active fists. I recovered quickly and gave as good as I got for as long as it took Holmes to run over and render my assailant unconscious.
As I was brushing debris from my jacket and pants, I realized that there were no more gunshots. Mr. Browne had joined us and we picked up our criminal and walked forward until we came to the edge of the ravine. There we found Lestrad and his men herding their captives toward the rear of the missing train. I counted sixteen alive and five lying dead. Later we learned that a crew of fourteen was taken while shoveling earth over the tracks at the siding, replacing the dead tree and the brush blocking the ravine.
Lestrad approached, looking extremely satisfied. “Caught ‘em bashing away at the doors of the wagons. None of my men are injured and I see you have one more for me.”
“Yes, Lestrad,” said Holmes, “he tried to escape, but the good doctor fought him to a standstill.”
Lestrad looked at me with a grin. “Humph. Never doubted your pugilistic prowess, Doctor.”
The ride back to London was imminently forgettable though I must admit that it took quite a while for my heart rate to slow to normal. Our little group gathered at one end of the car (near the bar) while the constables took turns guarding our prisoners at the other end. A small detachment was left with the treasure train to guard the corpses and await the arrival of its crew.
It was very late when we at last arrived at Paddington Station. Holmes and I bid good evening to our traveling companions and made our way directly to Baker Street and the comfort of our beds. This was one instance where Holmes had cleared away the fog prior to the climax so I was more interested in sleep than in discussion.
A few days later a commissionaire delivered a letter just as we had settled down for our afternoon tea.
Holmes opened the envelope and said, “It's a note from our friend, Mr. Browne along with a cheque that should keep us in biscuits for the next decade. Let us see here… Thank you… Marvelous job… Absolutely miraculous… Another thank you. Well, at least we know he is satisfied.”