The Lost Special

by Arthur Conan Doyle

The confession of Herbert de Lernac, now awaiting death in a prison in Marseilles, has explained one of the most confusing crimes of the century.

Although there is a reluctance to discuss the matter officially and little information has been given to the press, this criminal’s confession is supported by the facts and it seems we have at last found a solution to this astonishing business. As the case is eight years old and as a political crisis at the time meant other news was not reported in detail, it may be better to remind readers of the facts. They are taken from the Liverpool newspapers of that date, from the inquiry into the death of John Slater, the engine-driver and from the records of the West Coast Railway. Briefly, they are as follows:

On 3rd June, 1890, a gentleman who gave his name as Louis Caratal asked for an interview with James Bland, the manager of the West Coast Central Station in Liverpool. He was a small man, middle-aged and dark, with a stoop which was so noticeable that it suggested he was handicapped. He was with a friend, a very large man, whose politeness and constant attention suggested he was an employee.

This companion, whose name was not recorded, was certainly a foreigner and probably, from his dark complexion, either a Spaniard or a South American. He carried in his left hand a small black, leather box which was chained to his arm. Mr. Caratal was shown to Mr. Bland's office, while his companion remained outside.

Mr. Caratal's business was quickly completed. He had arrived that afternoon from Central America. Urgent affairs meant he should be in Paris without delay. He had missed the London express and needed a special. Money was of no importance. Time was everything. If the company could speed him on his way, they could name their price.

Mr. Bland had everything arranged in five minutes. The train would start in three-quarters of an hour. It would take that time to ensure the line was clear. The powerful engine had two carriages, with a guard's room behind. The first carriage was empty. The second contained, as usual, four sections: a first-class, a first-class smoking, a second-class, and a second-class smoking. The first of these, which was nearest to the engine, was given to the travellers. The other three were empty.

The guard of the special was James McPherson, who had been with the company for some years. The stoker, William Smith, was new. Mr. Caratel joined his companion when he left the manager’s office and both of them were impatient to start. After paying the money, they went to the carriage and at once took their seats, although they were told that the line could not be cleared for nearly an hour. In the meantime, a strange coincidence occurred in the office.

A request for a special is common in a large city, but that two should be required on the same afternoon was most unusual. It happened, however, that Mr. Bland had hardly made arrangements for the first traveller before a second arrived with a similar request. This was Mr. Moore, a military man who said that the sudden and serious illness of his wife in London made it absolutely necessary that he should not lose a moment in starting his journey there. He was so worried that Mr. Bland did everything possible to help him.

A second special was out of the question. There was the alternative, however, that Mr. Moore should share the cost of Mr. Caratal's train. It was hard to see any difficulty with this arrangement but Mr. Caratal absolutely refused to consider it. The train was his, he said, and he would not share it. Mr. Moore left the station very upset after learning that he had to take the slow train leaving Liverpool at six o'clock. At four thirty-one exactly, the special, containing Mr. Caratal and his gigantic companion, left Liverpool station. The line was clear and there should have been no stop before Manchester.

The train should have reached this city before six o'clock. At a quarter past six a telegram from Manchester to say that it had not yet arrived caused considerable surprise and worry among station staff at Liverpool. An inquiry to St. Helens, which is a third of the way between the two cities, got the following reply:

"To James Bland, Manager, Liverpool. - Special passed here at 4:52, on time - St. Helens."

This telegram was received at six-forty. At six-fifty a second message arrived from Manchester:

"No sign of special."

And then ten minutes later a third, more confusing one:

"We suppose there has been a mistake about the special. Local train from St. Helens, timed to follow it, has just arrived and seen nothing of it. Kindly advise - Manchester."

In some respects, the last telegram was very welcome to the manager at Liverpool. If an accident had occurred to the special, it was impossible that the local train could have travelled the same line without seeing it. And yet, what was the alternative? Where could the train be? Was it on a side track for some reason in order to allow the slower train to go past? Such an explanation was possible if a small repair was necessary. A telegram was sent to each station between St. Helens and Manchester, while the Liverpool manager waited in suspense. The answers came back in the order of the stations from Liverpool:

"Special passed here five o'clock - Collins Green."

"Special passed here six past five - Earlstown."

"Special passed here 5:10 - Newton."

"Special passed here 5:20 - Kenyon Junction."

"No special has passed here - Barton Town."

The two officials stared at each other in amazement.

"This is unique in my thirty years of experience," said Mr. Bland.

"Absolutely, sir. The special has gone missing between Kenyon Junction and Barton Town."

"But there is no side track so far as I can recall between the two stations. The special must have come off the line."

"But how could the four-fifty slow train pass over the same line without seeing it?"

"There's no alternative. It must have. Possibly the local train has seen something to explain the matter. We will telegraph Manchester for more information and Kenyon Junction telling them to examine the line immediately as far as Barton Town." The answer from Manchester came within a few minutes:

"No news of missing special. The driver and guard of the slow train are positive there has been no accident between Kenyon Junction and Barton Town. The line is quite clear and no sign of anything unusual - Manchester."

"We will have to dismiss that driver and guard," said Mr. Bland, angrily. "There has been a crash and they have missed it. The special has obviously come off the lines – how it could have happened is a mystery – but it must have and we’ll get a telegram from Kenyon or Barton Town soon to say that they have found it in a field."

But there was no telegram. Half an hour passed and then there arrived the following message from the station-master of Kenyon Junction:

"There is no sign of the missing special. It is certain that it passed here and that it did not arrive at Barton Town. I have gone down the line myself but all is clear and there has been no accident."

Mr. Bland was furious about the confusion.

"This is madness!" he cried. "Does a train vanish into thin air in England in broad daylight? An engine, two carriages, a guard’s room, five human beings – and all lost on a straight line of railway! Unless we get something positive in the next hour, I'll take Inspector Collins and go myself."

And then at last there was some news. Another telegram arrived from Kenyon Junction.

"Regret to report that the dead body of John Slater, driver of the special, has just been found among some bushes two and a quarter kilometres from the Junction. He fell from his engine, down a small hill and into the bushes. Injuries to his head from the fall appear to be the cause of death. The ground has now been carefully examined and there is no sign of the missing train."

The country was, as I have already explained, in the middle of a political crisis and the public was concentrating on sensational developments in Paris, where a scandal looked like destroying the Government and the reputations of many of the leading men in France. The papers were full of these events and the disappearance of the special attracted less attention than in more peaceful times. The bizarre nature of the event lessened its importance, for the papers did not believe the facts until the inquiry into the unfortunate death of the driver convinced them of the tragedy.

Inspector Collins, the senior detective with the company, went down to Kenyon Junction the same evening and their search lasted all the following day, but only with negative results. There was not only no sign of the missing train, but no theory could explain the facts. At the same time, Inspector Collins's report showed that there were more possibilities than expected.

"On the railway between these two points," he said, "there are many ironworks and mines. Some of these are still working and others have been abandoned. There are seven which have, or have had, railway lines running down to the main line to send their produce from the mine to the nearby cities. Out of the seven, four belong to mines which are no longer used. These are the Redgauntlet, Hero, Slough of Despond, and Heartsease mines.

"The last one was one of the main mines in Lancashire only ten years ago. These four may be eliminated from our inquiry because, to prevent possible accidents, the rails nearest to the main line have been removed and there is no longer any connection.

"There are three other side lines leading to:

(a) Carnstock Iron Works; (b) Big Ben Colliery; (c) Perseverance Colliery.

"Of these the Big Ben line ends at a dead wall of coal. No special was seen or heard there. The Carnstock Iron Works line was blocked all day on 3rd June by sixteen trucks. It is a single line and nothing could have passed. As to the Perseverance line, it is a large double line, which has considerable traffic because the output of the mine is very large. On 3rd June this traffic moved as usual. Hundreds of men were working along the line and it is impossible that an unexpected train could have come down there without anyone noticing it.

"As to John Slater, there is no clue from his appearance or injuries. We can only say that, so far as we can see, he died by falling off his engine, though why he fell or what happened to the engine after his fall are questions I cannot offer an opinion about."

A month went by without the slightest success. A reward was offered but did not help. Every day the public opened their papers knowing that the mystery would at last be solved, but week after week passed and a solution remained as far away as ever. In broad daylight on a June afternoon in a heavily populated part of England, a train had disappeared completely – as if it had turned into gas. In fact, some people seriously suggested that supernatural forces were at work.

Among the many suggestions by various newspapers or private individuals, there were one or two which were feasible enough to attract public attention. One which appeared in The Times, over the signature of a famous amateur at that date, looked at the matter in a critical and semi-scientific manner. Here is an extract:

"It is one of the basic principles of reasoning," he wrote, "that when the impossible has been eliminated, the rest, HOWEVER IMPROBABLE, must contain the truth. It is certain that the train left Kenyon Junction. It is certain that it did not reach Barton Town. It is extremely unlikely, but still possible, that it may have taken one of the seven available side lines. It is obviously impossible for a train to run where there are no rails and, therefore, we may reduce our improbable cases to the three open lines, namely the Carnstock Iron Works, the Big Ben, and the Perserverance.

"Is there a secret group of miners, which is capable of destroying both train and passengers? It is improbable but not impossible. I am unable to suggest any other solution. I should certainly advise the company to direct all their energies towards those three lines and the workmen at the end of them."

The investigation was in this hopeless position when a new and most unexpected incident occurred. This was Mrs. McPherson receiving a letter from her husband, James McPherson, the guard on the missing train. The letter, dated July 5th, 1890, was posted from New York and received on July 14th. Some doubted that it was genuine but Mrs. McPherson was positive about the writing and the fact that it contained a hundred dollars in five-dollar notes was enough to suggest it was not a hoax. No address was given in the letter, which went like this:

“My dear wife,

"I have been thinking a great deal and I find it very hard to give you up. The same with Lizzie. I try to fight against it but it will always come back to me. I send you some money which should be enough to bring both Lizzie and you across the Atlantic. You will find the Hamburg boats which stop at Southampton very good boats, and cheaper than Liverpool. If you could come here and stop at the Johnston House I will send you word how to meet, but things are very difficult for me at present and I am not very happy, finding it hard to give you both up. So no more at present, from your loving husband,

"James McPherson."

For a time it was expected that this letter would solve the whole matter, especially because a passenger who looked like the missing guard had travelled from Southampton under the name of Summers to New York on 7th June. Mrs. McPherson went across to New York and stayed for three weeks at the Johnston House, without hearing anything from the missing man. It is possible that some careless comments in the press warned him that the police were using them as bait. However, he neither wrote nor came and the women returned to Liverpool.

And so the case has stood up to the present year of 1898. Incredible as it may seem, nothing has happened during these eight years which has explained the extraordinary disappearance of the special which contained Mr. Caratal and his companion.

Careful inquiries into the pasts of the two travellers have only proved that Mr. Caratal was well known as a financier and political agent in Central America and that during his voyage to Europe he was very keen to reach Paris as quickly as possible. His companion, whose name was on the passenger list as Eduardo Gomez, was a man with a violent criminal record. There was evidence to show though that he respected and liked Mr. Caratal.

No information came from Paris about what the aim of Mr. Caratal's hurried journey was. These are all the facts of the case up to the confession of Herbert de Lernac, now awaiting death for the murder of a businessman. His statement has been translated from French as follows:

"It is not only to boast that I give this information because, if that were my goal, I could describe a dozen actions of mine which are as impressive. But I do it so that certain gentlemen in Paris may understand that I, who can talk about Mr. Caratal’s fate, can also tell who arranged the murder, unless the pardon I am awaiting comes to me very quickly. Do this before it is too late! You know Herbert de Lernac and you are aware that his actions are as ready as his words. Hurry, then, or you are lost!

"At present I shall mention no names – if you only heard the famous names! – but I shall only tell you how cleverly I did it. I was loyal to my employers then and no doubt they will be loyal to me now. I hope so and, until I am convinced that they have betrayed me, these names shall not be revealed. But on that day... well, I say no more!

"In a word, then, there was a famous trial in Paris, in the year 1890, in connection with a scandal in politics and finance. The careers of many of the chief men in France were at risk. You have seen the game of bowls, with all the pins standing so straight. Then there comes the bowl from far away and pop, pop, pop – there are your pins on the floor. Well, imagine some of the greatest men in France as these pins and this Mr. Caratal as the bowl which could be seen coming from far away. If he arrived, then it was pop, pop, pop for all of them. It was decided that he should not arrive.

"I do not accuse them all of knowing what was going to happen. There were, as I have said, great financial as well as political interests and a syndicate was formed to manage the business. Some supported the syndicate who hardly understood its goal. But others understood very well and they can be sure that I have not forgotten their names. They had warning that Mr. Caratal was coming long before he left South America and they knew that the evidence which he had would certainly destroy all of them. The syndicate had an unlimited amount of money – absolutely unlimited, you understand. They looked round for a capable agent. The man chosen must be inventive, determined, flexible – a man in a million. They chose Herbert de Lernac and they were right.

"My duties were to choose my subordinates, to use freely the power which money gives and to make certain that Mr. Caratal should never arrive in Paris. With my usual energy I began work within an hour of receiving my instructions and the steps I took were the very best.

"A man I could trust was sent to South America to travel home with Mr. Caratal. If he had arrived in time, the ship would never have reached Liverpool. But, sadly, it had already started before my agent could reach it. Like all great organizers I was, however, prepared for failure, and had a series of alternatives ready. One or the other must succeed.

"You must not underrate the difficulties of my task or imagine that an ordinary assassination would do. We must destroy not only Mr. Caratal, but Mr. Caratal's documents, and Mr. Caratal's companions too, if we believed he had communicated his secrets to them. And you must remember that they were expecting us.

"I was all ready for Mr. Caratal's arrival in Liverpool especially because I had reason to believe that he would have bodyguards from the moment he got to London. Everything must be done between the moment he arrived in Liverpool and reaching London. We prepared six plans; the one we used would depend on his movements. Whatever he did, we were ready for him. If he stayed in Liverpool, we were ready. If he took an ordinary train, an express, or a special, everything was prepared.

"Of course, I could not do all this myself. What could I know of English railway lines? But money can buy agents all the world over, and I soon had one of the best brains in England to help me. I will mention no names, but it would be unfair to claim all the credit for myself. My English partner knew the West Coast line well and he had a group of workers who were trustworthy and intelligent. The idea was his and my own judgement was only required in the details.

"We bought several officials, including James McPherson, the guard most likely to be employed on a special. Smith, the stoker, was also ours. John Slater, the engine-driver, was contacted but found to be obstinate and dangerous. We were not certain that Mr. Caratal would take a special but we thought it probable because it was extremely important to him to reach Paris without delay.

"The moment that Caratal arrived in Liverpool we knew that he suspected danger. He had brought with him a dangerous man, named Gomez, a man who carried weapons and was prepared to use them. He carried Caratal's confidential papers for him. It was likely that Caratal had told him everything and that to remove Caratal without removing Gomez would be a waste of energy. Clearly, they should share the same fate and our plans were made much easier by their request for a special train.

"Of course, you will understand that two of the three employees of the company were really working for us, at a price which would make them wealthy for a lifetime. I do not go so far as to say that the English are more honest than any other nation, but I have found them more expensive to buy.

"I have already spoken of my English agent. He was in charge of all arrangements at Liverpool, while I was at the inn at Kenyon, where I waited for a signal to act. When the special was arranged, my agent immediately telegraphed me to say how soon I should have everything ready. He applied immediately for a special too under the name of Mr. Moore, in the hope that he would travel with Mr. Caratal, which might under certain circumstances have been helpful to us. If, for example, our plan had failed, he would have shot them both and destroyed their papers. Caratal refused to accept any other traveller. My agent then left the station, returned by another entrance and travelled down with McPherson, the guard.

"In the meantime you will be interested to know what my movements were. Everything had been prepared for days before and only the finishing touches were needed. The side line which we had chosen had once joined the main line but it had been disconnected. We had only to replace a few rails to connect it once more. These rails had been laid without attracting attention. With my small but competent group of workers, we had everything ready long before the special arrived. When it did, it ran off on the small side line so easily that the two travellers did not even notice.

"Our plan had been that Smith, the stoker, should drug John Slater, the driver, so that he should vanish with the others. In this detail, and in this detail only, our plans failed. Our stoker did his business so clumsily that Slater fell off the engine and though luck was with us when he broke his neck in the fall, still he remained a blot on a complete masterpiece of crime.

"But now I have got our special on the small line two kilometres in length, which leads, or rather used to lead, to the abandoned Heartsease mine, once one of the largest in England. The moment that the train was on the side line, Smith, the stoker, turned the engine to full speed and he and McPherson jumped off before it was too late. It may be that it was this slowing down which first attracted the attention of the travellers, but the train was running at full speed again before their heads appeared at the open window.

"It makes me smile to think how confused they must have been. Picture to yourself your own feelings if, on looking out of your luxurious carriage, you suddenly noticed that it was not Manchester but Death which was waiting for you at the end of that line. I was close to them and could see their faces. Caratal was praying, I think. The other roared like a bull. He saw us standing on the hill and he pointed to us like a madman. Then he pulled at his wrist and threw his box out of the window in our direction. Of course, his meaning was obvious. Here was the evidence, and they would promise to be silent if they could live. But business is business. Besides, the train was now out of our control.

"He stopped shouting when he saw the black mouth of the mine in front of them. We had removed the boards which had covered it. The rails now ran to the edge of the mine. We saw the two heads at the window: Caratal below, Gomez above; but they were both silent. The sight seemed to have paralysed them.

"I had wondered how the train running at a great speed would hit the mine it was heading towards. I was interested in watching it. One of my colleagues thought it would actually jump over it and indeed it was not far from doing so. Fortunately, however, it fell short, and the engine hit the other side of the mine with a great crash. The carriages were all smashed and then the whole mass of iron, smoking coals, wheels, wood-work and seats all crashed down into the mine.

"Quite a long time afterwards, there came a deep roar as the train hit the bottom and then a thick cloud of steam and smoke flew up out of the black depths, falling like rain all round us. Then only the summer sunshine was left and everything was quiet again in the Heartsease mine.

"And now, having carried out our plans so successfully, we only had to destroy any sign of the crash. Our workers at the other end had already taken up the rails and disconnected the side line, replacing everything as it had been before. We were equally busy at the mine. It was boarded over as it used to be. Then, without any hurry but also without delay, we all left the area, most of us to Paris, my English agent to Manchester and McPherson to Southampton and then to America. Let the English papers of that date tell how completely we had beaten the cleverest of their detectives.

"You will remember that Gomez threw his bag of papers out of the window and I need not say that I took that bag to my employers. It may interest them now, however, to learn that I took one or two little papers out of that bag as a souvenir. I have no wish to publish these papers; but, still, it is every man for himself in this world and what else can I do if my friends will not come to my help when I want them?

"My friends, you may believe that Herbert de Lernac is quite as dangerous when he is against you as when he is with you, and that he is not a man to go to the guillotine until he has seen that every one of you is going to follow him. For your own sake, if not for mine, hurry, Mr. –, General – and Lord – (you can fill in the blanks for yourselves as you read this). I promise you that in the next edition there will be no blanks to fill.

"P.S. As I look over my notes there is only one thing missing that I can see. It is about the unfortunate McPherson, who was stupid enough to write to his wife and make an appointment with her in New York. When interests like ours were at risk, we could not leave them to chance. After he wrote to his wife, we could not trust him anymore. We took steps therefore to ensure that he should not see his wife. I have sometimes thought that it would be a kindness to write to her that there is no obstacle to her marrying again."