The Flying Scotsman (21 page)

“Brandy, Sir Cameron,” the waiter said, as if calling a hound to a joint of lamb. The door opened.

“About bloody time,” Sir Cameron growled.

“Dreadful chap,” said Mycroft Holmes.

“Your valet will bring you your tea,” the waiter went on just as the door closed again; the waiter retreated down the hall.

I patted the wall separating compartment one from compartment two. “I hope you were not planning to sleep tonight.”

“I had not, no,” Holmes replied. “We may now assume it will be a certain thing.” As he spoke the train made an initial lurch as the sound of the engine grew louder. “Well, Sheffield next, and a coaling station and water tower there, then on to Leeds and Carlisle, and finally Edinburgh. Water a final time just beyond the station at Leeds, as well as sand. We will be most vulnerable in those places, for we must now suppose that our foes, whomever they may be, know that we are on this train and are making moves to stop us. Mail drops and pick-ups need not concern us.”

“Unless someone puts a bomb in a mail-sack,” I added, disquieted by my own thoughts. I felt as much as heard the train begin to move. My conjectures were caught up in the dangers ahead as we slowly slid out of Leicester Station, resuming our northward journey, so that the waiter’s knock on the door sounded as loud and lethal as the discharge of a pistol.

“Come in,” called out Holmes as if he had not noticed my start at all.

“Tea, Mister Holcomb, Mister Guthrie.” He stepped into the compartment and pulled out the table on its folded hinges, set it aright and put down the tray. “I’ll pick it up in half an hour, if that is satisfactory. Oh, and I would recommend taking the second seating for supper; the families traveling with children usually prefer the first seating.” He caught the shilling Holmes flipped him with the ease of experience.

“Most prudent. Put Guthrie and me down for the second seating. I will ask Herr Schere if he will be well enough to join us. We have plenty of time to inform you, haven’t we?” Mycroft Holmes indicated the tea. “We will not dine before eight, I presume.”

“Eight-thirty, the maître d’ says,” the waiter answered. “For second seating. Barring any more unforeseen events.” With that he was gone, preparing to bring yet more tea to Herr Schere. I thought the Prince must surely be awash with all the liquid he would have consumed this day.

When we had gone a mile or so in silence, Mycroft Holmes said, “I will wager you five pounds that the police will not find Angus Dunmuir. I predict he will be away from England, possibly from Whitby or Hull before sunrise tomorrow.”

“You assume he has accomplices,” I said. “Shall you inform Tyers of these events?” I touched my hand to the side of the cozy covering my pot of tea; it was very warm.

“I had better. I will have to improvise regarding codes.” He muttered the last.

“Why not give the account without codes?” I recommended. “It would not be thought remarkable that one who played so signal a role in solving the crime should report upon it. In fact, should you fail to mention it, there might be scrutiny paid to the whole of your message.” I righted my cup on its saucer, set the strainer in place, and prepared to pour, trying to match my movements to the motion of the train.

In compartment one, just ahead of us, Sir Cameron was starting to sing: I think he meant it to be “Where Did You Get That Hat?” but I could not be sure. Periodically he would exclaim, “Hello!” which is why I thought it might be that song: “Where ’ere I go, they shout Hello! Where did you get that hat?”

“The drink will tire him in a while,” said Holmes.

“Wishful thinking, sir,” I said, and managed to get half a cup of tea poured without mishap.

“Just a moment,” said Mycroft Holmes, taking a thin ivory shaft about four inches long from his breast pocket. He reached over and stirred my tea with it, studying the ivory for more than a minute. “No change. Your tea is safe.”

I shuddered in spite of myself. “You do not seriously suppose someone will try to poison us?” I noticed my hand hardly shook at all as I lifted the cup; this pleased me enormously.

“No, but that is how men in our line of work come to die. You must suppose that there is malice around you and take the necessary precautions.” Mycroft Holmes lifted the cozy from his teapot, opened the lid and thrust his ivory stick into it, stirring thoughtfully. When he drew it out, he waited a short while, then nodded his approval. “If Sir Cameron had had one of these, he might not have slept so much of his journey away. We can only be grateful that he did not, and we were free to put Miss Gatspy’s powder in his brandy.” He sat down and poured himself some tea, adding sugar and milk to the dark liquid before he was willing to taste it.

“Tell me, if you would,” I ventured, “if you truly believe it is the Brotherhood who are behind these terrible acts.”

“I am fairly certain they are, but I also assume they have help of a sort; and as a result, there are more who have taken it upon themselves to act against our charge than we supposed when this began.” He sipped his tea. “I do not think the Dunmuir question is part of this, but it is convenient for the Brotherhood and their allies. And the worst of it is, we are condemned to this train as far as Edinburgh. I thought it would protect us with misdirection and speed, but neither has been sufficient to keep Herr Schere from harm.”

“So it would seem,” I said, reaching for a scone. “But our work has not been entirely for naught, has it?”

“No, I would not think so,” said Mycroft Holmes. “I am certain, however, that our greatest danger now comes from the police. If we are to deliver Herr Schere to safety, then we must avoid any further contact with the police.” He set his cup down with such force that I feared he had cracked it. “Damned deception.”

“The police?” I poured in more tea.

“Just the one or two who are in the hands of the Brotherhood. I think we may have been too lax in our investigation following the assassination attempt.” Holmes glared at the wall between this compartment and compartment one, where Sir Cameron had got onto “Tah Rah Rah Boom-tee-ay,” making special efforts on the “boom.” “I do wish he would go back to sleep.”

“We can but hope,” I said, thinking it quite marvelous to hear how far out of tune the man could sing. “What do we do if Sir Cameron does not go to sleep?”

“Then I shall have to have a discussion with his valet, and I fear we will have to make a few arrangements.” Mycroft Holmes sighed. “A pity his family didn’t send him to Australia or India when he was young, so he might have made something of himself or fallen to bits by his own efforts. Here he is at liberty to blame his family and his duty to them for what he has done to himself. That débâcle with his wife was just another example of his inability to assess his actions.” He had a bit of a scone. “Not as fresh as I like them, but well enough, considering.”

I waited a bit, then asked, “Would you like me to check on Herr Schere?”

“And his lovely companion?” Holmes asked with an impish arch of his heavy brows.

“You
will
have your joke, I assume,” I said, somewhat stiffly. “I am concerned that—”

“My dear boy, you need not fly up into the boughs. I meant nothing to your discredit.” He lifted the lid on the porcelain cup in which his egg had been baked. “Not too bad for railway fare, though I like mine with a bit more butter.” He reached for his fork.

“Shall I check on them?” I persisted.

In the first compartment Sir Cameron fell silent.

“As soon as you are through with your tea by all means do so.
It will reassure us both,” said Mycroft Holmes as he bit into the soft egg on his fork.

“Very good,” I said, and had a taste of a scone and then a small wedge of good English cheese. This suited me very well indeed, and I wondered who supplied the North Eastern line with such fare.

“Make sure you do not scrimp on your tea, Guthrie. Supper is some hours away and anything might happen between now and then.” Holmes was having a wedge of cheese himself, savoring it and nodding to show his approval.

“Will we have to be as careful with supper?” I asked, knowing we would attract unwanted attention if we went through the kind of testing Holmes had done here.

“I think not,” said Holmes as he considered his situation. “Service in the dining room is public enough to afford us some protection.”

“How do you mean?” I asked sharply. “Surely you do not think there will be another attempt? After the Dunmuir incident, it would be foolish for the assassin to make a move, I should have thought.”

“Ah, but Guthrie, what better time? We are off our guards; we have assumed the worst is over. Our defenses are lax and the assassin may act with impunity.” He cut two wedges of cheese and offered me one. “Tell me, what do you make of this situation we are in? We should be at Leeds by now, but we are not. The sleeping berths may have to be made up for the second-class passengers if we are delayed any longer, as I begin to fear we may be. If the Brotherhood has learned of our intentions, then we are little more than moving targets in this train. And the trouble is, we must stay with it or risk the very kind of incident we are seeking to avoid.” He studied the countryside flashing by the window for a short while. “I must try to believe we have not led our charge into a death trap.”

“No more do I,” I said, my voice as somber as his. I drank more of my tea and tried to find comfort in its familiar savor.

“I hope we have news from Tyers that will more fully reveal what I most fear.” He finished his baked egg—I had not tasted mine yet—and put his fork down. “It is going to be a long evening, my boy. Sustain yourself as best you can.”

I heard him with trepidation, for I knew from previous experience that he had a suspicion he was not yet prepared to voice that bore on our predicament. It was useless to urge him to reveal anything of his thoughts; he would do so when he was ready. I dutifully began to eat my baked egg and wondered if I should order a second pot of tea when Sir Cameron once again began singing. “Too much to hope for.”

“You never miss the water until the well runs dry,” he caroled.

Mycroft Holmes sighed. “He has the most perverse stamina.”

“So he does,” I agreed, listening to the maudlin sentiments become bathos in his drunken rendition.

After listening a short time longer, Mycroft Holmes broke off half a scone—there were now only two left on the plate—and began to eat.

I finished my tea without doing more than shaking my head at the more painful of Sir Cameron’s outbursts. I took consolation in noticing that his words were now slurred beyond definition and his pursuit of melody had been abandoned for a kind of meandering chant. I reckoned he would not be able to continue this way for much longer.

FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF THE PHILIP TYERS

CI Somerford has brought by a copy of his report on the police assigned to the investigation of the attempt on HHPO’s lift; he has given the original to Superintendent Spencer, who is vetting the investigation and who has handled all the efforts to protect HHPO during his stay in Britain. Somerford told me that he is aware of three other Chief Inspectors reporting to Superintendent Spencer as well as he himself. This concentration of information must either protect or incalculably weaken this investigation, for if the Chief Inspectors are all loyal, which as yet has not been established, then the Superintendent must become a suspect, and his superiors as well, a supposition that can only bring the gravest apprehensions. Against this possibility, the Chief Inspectors are planning to share their information, preferring to protect themselves rather than run the risk of being made scapegoats by those above them. CI Somerford confided in me his growing apprehension about the corruption that he is now certain pervades the police and his determination to see an end to it.

While Somerford was here, Sutton remained in the parlor behind closed doors. It would not do for the police to know of MH’s double while we have not yet determined the full extent of police corruption. I will review the report and send along the salient points to MH at Sheffield or Leeds.

Commander Winslowe has sent word that no further actions have been taken in regard to HHPO’s double. Apparently the attack on the one is the full extent of what may be done. The Royal Navy has increased coastal patrols in case anything untoward may be attempted in regard to the remaining double.

I have reports to prepare for the Admiralty and for No. I0, which I must deliver shortly if I am to have full information to send on to MH Sutton is willing to help me, and he writes a fine hand, so I will not hesitate to use his skills.

If only that train had remained on schedule, so many of the difficulties we must deal with would not enter into the picture at all. We must all be doubly vigilant with these delays exposing us to so much more than we had anticipated at the first.

IN RESPONSE TO
my
rap on the door, Penelope Gatspy opened it carefully, one hand deep in the folds of her skirt. “Guthrie,” she said and stood aside for me.

“You will not need the pistol,” I told her, and watched her put it back in her small beaded handbag and close the door, securing its lock. “Your Highness,” I said to Prince Oscar, who was still lounging on his day-bed.

“Herr Schere,” he corrected me with an affable smile. “I have been spending a delightful afternoon with Miss Gatspy,” he went on, motioning me to sit on the stool Miss Gatspy had just vacated.

I remained standing, as should any gentleman. “I trust she has taken good care of you?”

“Most excellent care,” said Prince Oscar with a look I could only describe as lascivious.

“And you are pleased with what she has done for you?” I could feel my collar tighten around my neck; I strove to mitigate my emotions. “I hope the ... impromptu concert has not been too unpleasant?”

“You mean Sir Cameron?” Miss Gatspy asked, and laughed a bit. “At least he has fallen asleep again. We must hope he will remain so for the rest of our journey.” She indicated the tea-tray which was still to be claimed by the waiter. “Aside from using the lav from time to time, I think we will remain here until journey’s end. I will not fall asleep or allow myself to be distracted, and so you may assure your employer.”

I could not like the notion of her staying alone with Prince Oscar for so long. I decided to approach the matter obliquely. “Mister Hal ... comb would like to know if you will dine with us this evening, Herr Schere?”

“Assuming my health permits, I would be delighted,” he said, a gleam in his eyes that I did not entirely like. “I presume the invitation extends to Miss Gatspy?”

“A woman traveling alone is usually wisest to remain in her own company, or she might attract the sort of attention she would not like,” I said, trusting Miss Gatspy to take my meaning.

“But the whole train must know I’ve been nursing Herr Schere,” said Penelope Gatspy, a most adorable and unexpected dimple appearing in her cheek as she smiled. “It would probably be more remarked upon if I did
not
dine with you than if I did. You do not want the passengers questioning Herr Schere’s illness, do you? That speculation would be far worse than any scandal that might be incurred by our dining together. After all, this is a train, not a hotel. It is expected that passengers should be thrown together in unconventional ways.”

The worst of it was, she was right. I nodded two or three times as I strove to gather my thoughts, and then I said, “I will inform the dining car there will be a fourth at our table. We are going to do the second seating.” I regarded Miss Gatspy narrowly. “Are you sure this is what you would like to do?”

“Yes, Guthrie, it is,” she said, sounding exasperated.

I offered her a short bow and gave my attention to Prince Oscar. “It may be boring for you, but my employer is still recommending you remain in your compartment as much as possible; Miss Gatspy is wise to recommend such a precaution. We have new passengers aboard since Leicester, and that may or may not mean anything, but it is a chance we are unwilling to take unless you insist.”

“With such charming company, how can I object to remaining in my compartment?” said Prince Oscar, so pleased with his answer that I wanted to shout at him. The extremity of my response I attributed to strain and fatigue. I knew I ought to apologize for my intentions, but before I could form my sentiments, Miss Gatspy interrupted.

“You are very gracious, Herr Schere, but Guthrie is right; traveling with only one person for company must be boring for you.” She did not look at me, but I could see how her words were as much for me as for the Prince.

“In fact, it is something of a relief not to have an entourage to concern me. I rarely have the opportunity to do much alone. I am not alone now, of course, but I am more on my own than I have been since I was a boy. It is a treat and I am making the most of it. You cannot know how vexing it is to be always surrounded by those dedicated to your service and each one hoping for a reward for their dedication.” He sighed. “To have so few around me for company and not one of you seeking advancement from me, that is a pleasure I had not hoped to encounter.” He made a sign to Miss Gatspy. “Had you seen my guards at home, you would know why I am so enjoying myself now.”

I had to admit it was a splendid little speech, and one I might have enjoyed more had the circumstances been different. “I am pleased that you can find entertainment in so dire an embroilment as the one we face now.”

“Oh, Guthrie,” chided Miss Gatspy, “don’t be such a prude.”

“If concern for those entrusted to my employer and me makes me a prude, so be it.” I was appalled at how I sounded, and I shuddered to think the impression Prince Oscar must have of me now.

“Miss Gatspy, I believe Mister Guthrie is worried on your behalf,” Prince Oscar declared. “It is reassuring to know a man in his line of work still considers the reputations of women he works with.”

“Um,” said Miss Gatspy, looking at me with the air of one who has been given a dubious gift.

“What sort of man would I be if I did not uphold the honor of my associates, for then mine would be less than nothing.” I looked at her again, wishing I could discern her thoughts.

“Mister Guthrie,” said Prince Oscar. “You may rest assured that I will in no way trespass on Miss Gatspy’s good-will.”

I had to be content with this. “Certainly. Well, now that our plans are set, I will go along to the dining car and amend our reservations for the second seating.” I turned to let myself out, but Prince Oscar had one more observation to add before I was released.

“A most fortuitous thing, that Mister Holcomb could so handily discern the miscreant in the lounge car.” He smiled to show he attached no greater significance to it than the whim of fortune.

“It is a skill that runs in his family,” I said, and slid the door back.

“Guthrie,” said Miss Gatspy, “before we go in to supper, if you will be kind enough to relieve me for ten minutes so that I might go to my compartment to ... make myself ready to dine?”

“Of course. It will be my pleasure.” I did not look at her as I answered, afraid her glowing smile would detract from my purpose. It was perplexing to think how such a woman could influence my thoughts and throw my perceptions into turmoil. I told myself that my single lapse with her was in the past, to be forgotten: no doubt it was her occupation that so unnerved me, for a woman skilled in espionage and assassination was a rare creature in this or any time.

“Thank you. I will knock on your compartment when I am ready for you to take my place,” she said.

“Very good. I will be at your service,” I said, and left her alone with Prince Oscar.

In the dining car, the maître d’ took the reservation and promised a table where we might look into the kitchen. He was middle-aged with deep-set lines in his face and a nice capacity to judge the social importance of travelers. He treated me with courtesy but without the deference he would show to someone of greater social standing. “It is strange you should want that one,” he told me as he studied my initials on my portfolio. “Most passengers would prefer not to see what goes on in the galley.”

“Perhaps, but since Mister Holcomb and Herr Schere are employed by
Satchel’s Guides,
you will understand their purpose in this request.” I spoke with the kind of easy negligence that suggested that such an insistence was standard for Satchel’s.

“Of course,” said the maître d’, whose rolling gait that rocked with the train, along with his nautical use of the word galley made me suppose he had once worked for a steamship line, and had continued his work in the rails as he had once on the sea.

“Thank you. We’ll see you at the second seating,” I told him, trying not to be too grand in
my demeanor, for I sensed this would not gain the high opinion of this maître d’.

“Very good,” he said, and went back to his duties in the dining car.

Passing through the second-class carriage I noticed that the compartments were still all full, which led me to suspect that there were many reasons for us to remain alert, for we could not adequately observe all those who had boarded at Leicester. I kept a mental tally of those passengers I was certain were new and considered returning to the lounge car to listen to gossip. That was not what I had been instructed to do, however, so I continued on to the second compartment of the first car. As I came up to that door, I noticed Sir Cameron was finally silent.

“Come,” said Mycroft Holmes in response to my coded knock. I slid the door open and stepped inside. “Are we ready for the evening yet?”

“Miss Gatspy will be joining us at supper,” I told him. “The reservations are for a party of four.”

“Very good, Guthrie,” said Holmes. “I was troubled that we had not thought to include your Miss Gatspy. I am glad Herr Schere remembered to do so.” He had lit a cigar and the aroma of the tobacco filled the compartment.

“Are you joking me, sir?” I asked rather more curtly than I should have.

“No, Guthrie, at least not this time.” He indicated a place I might sit. “You are a stickler for good form, as I tend to forget. It is one of the reasons I hired you, for you know to a nicety what is proper to do.”

This praise took me by surprise. “I had not thought you would find much use for—” I almost said
my prudishness,
but stopped myself in time.

“My dear boy, I know protocol, but that is not the same thing as good manners and a sense of decorum.” He took another draw of his cigar and blew out the fragrant smoke slowly, letting it wreathe around his head. “You have those skills I lack, and I rely upon you to augment my knowledge when such becomes necessary.”

“You have only to ask me, sir,” I said to him, still mildly astonished by what he had just confided.

“Tonight I suspect we will need more than two pair of eyes to adequately assess our situation. Miss Gatspy is no amateur, and she will bring her keen attention to assist us in our work. I am very grateful that she is willing to extend herself on our behalf.” He saw something in my face that made him add, “I realize her interests are those of the Golden Lodge, Guthrie, and not necessarily those of Britain; but when their purposes march with ours, I am not above making the most of it. The Brotherhood has certainly not allowed such minor matters as national alliances to influence their work. In situations such as this one, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“I take it, sir, you do not believe we are out of danger.” I had seen him in such a state of mind before, and I could not make light of it. “What do you anticipate?”

“Trouble, of course,” said Mycroft Holmes. “I am not yet wholly sanguine about our journey, the less so because the police have been brought into it, will-ye, nil-ye.”

“But Inspector Carew said his reports would not be ready until tomorrow, and by then we shall be finished with our mission,” I reminded him.

“Ah, but Inspector Carew isn’t the only man having knowledge of these events. There is Rollins, the coroner, and any number of constables. Men in that profession gossip as much as any, and word can spread like fire if the case is significant enough for the men to boast of it.” Holmes tapped the ash from the end of his cigar. “The gossip is not the same as the rumors of crowds; it changes less in the repeating, for it must convince men who are familiar with the work the police do. In this instance I could wish for wild retellings for the sake of having the whole dismissed as fabrication.”

“Do you think that the word could reach London quickly?” I asked, and knew the answer as I did. “The telegraph. Of course it could.”

“And it could find its way to ears and eyes not working to our advantage.” Holmes glared at the swiftly passing scenery. “If only Tyers has unearthed some information that we can use as regards the police. But if we are not kept informed, then this journey is still fraught with peril for Herr Schere.”

“Do you think Herr Schere is aware of it?” I listened for his answer most attentively, bearing, as it did, on Miss Gatspy.

“He would be a fool if he is not, and I have no reason to think him a fool.” He took his handkerchief from his pocket and buffed the toes of his shoes. “We must keep up appearances, mustn’t we?”

“If you require it,” I said, recognizing that he would not say much more on the matter of danger until he had received his communications from Tyers.

“You will want to neaten your tie, and then go along to the lounge again. You will not appear too obvious if you wait twenty minutes before making your appearance there. I want to know what the new passengers are being told about the murder, and the lounge is the ripest place to hear such things. As you participated so much in the apprehension of the criminal, questions may be directed to you.” He held out his cigar. “When I am done with this, and have finished readying one or two items for you to telegraph when we reach Sheffield, I will come along to join you.”

“Very good, sir,” I said, rising and taking up my portfolio again.