Tales of Terror and Mystery Story 7 - The Lost Special

**Arthur Conan Doyle** (0:00)
Tales of Terror and Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle THE LOST SPECIAL This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org. The confession of Herbert de Lernec, now lying under sentence of death at Marseilles, has thrown a light upon one of the most inexplicable crimes of the century—an incident which is, I believe, absolutely unprecedented in the criminal annals of any country. Although there is a reluctance to discuss the matter in official circles, and little information has been given to the press, there are still indications that the statement of this arch-criminal is corroborated by the facts, and that we have at last found a solution for a most astounding business. As the matter is eight years old, and as its importance was somewhat obscured by a political crisis which was engaging the public attention at the time, it may be as well to state the facts as far as we have been able to ascertain them. They are collated from the Liverpool papers of that date, and the proceedings at the inquest upon John Slater, the engine driver, and from the records of the London and West Coast Railway Company, which have been courteously put at my disposal. Briefly they are as follows. On the 3rd of June 1890 a gentleman, who gave his name as Monsieur Louis Caratel, desired an interview with Mr. James Bland, the superintendent of the London and West Coast Central Station in Liverpool. He was a small man, middle-aged and dark, with a stoop which was so marked that it was suggested some deformity of the spine.
He was accompanied by a friend, a man of imposing physique, whose differential manner and constant attention showed that his position was one of dependence. This friend or companion, whose name did not transpire, was certainly a foreigner, and probably from his swarthy complexion, either Spaniard or South American. One peculiarity was observed in him. He carried in his left hand a small black leather dispatch box, and it was noticed by a sharp-eyed clerk in the central office that this box was fastened to his wrist by a strap. No importance was attached to the fact at the time, and subsequent events endowed it with some significance. Monsieur Carretel was shown up to Mr. Bland's office while his companion remained outside.
Monsieur Carretel's business was quickly dispatched. He had arrived that afternoon from Central America. Affairs of the utmost importance demanded that he should be in Paris without the loss of an unnecessary hour. He had missed the London Express. A special must be provided. Money was of no importance. Time was everything. If the company would speed him on his way, they might make their own terms.
Mr. Bland struck the electric bell, summoned Mr. Potter Hood, the traffic manager, and had the matter arranged in five minutes. The train would start in three-quarters of an hour. It would take that time to ensure that the lines should be clear. The powerful engine called Rushdale No. 247 on the company's register was attached to two carriages with a guard's van behind. The first carriage was solely for the purpose of decreasing the inconvenience arising from the oscillation. The second was divided as usual into four compartments—a first class, a first class smoking, a second class, and a second class smoking. The first compartment, which was nearest to the engine, was the one allotted to the travelers. The other three were empty. The guard of the special train was James MacPherson, who had been some years in the service of the company. The stoker, William Smith, was a new hand.
Monsieur Kettertel, upon leaving the superintendent's office, rejoined his companion, and both of them manifested extreme impatience to be off. Having paid the money he'd asked, which amounted to fifty pounds five shillings, at the usual special rate of five shillings a mile, they demanded to be shown the carriage, and at once took their seats in it, although they were assured that the better part of an hour must elapse before the line could be cleared. In the meantime, a singular coincidence had occurred in the office which Monsieur Kettertel had just quitted.
A request for a special is not a very uncommon circumstance in a rich commercial centre, but that two should be required upon the same afternoon was most unusual. It so happened, however, that Mr. Bland had hardly dismissed the first traveller before a second entered with a similar request. This was a Mr. Horace Moore, a gentlemanly man of military appearance, who alleged that the sudden serious illness of his wife in London made it absolutely imperative that he should not lose an instant in starting upon the journey. His distress and anxiety were so evident that Mr. Bland did all that was possible to meet his wishes. A second special was out of the question, as the ordinary local service was already somewhat deranged by the first. There was the alternative, however, that Mr. Moore should share the expense of Monsieur Kettertel's train, and should travel in the other empty first-class compartment, if Monsieur Kettertel objected to having him in the one which he occupied. It was difficult to see any objection to such an arrangement, and yet Monsieur Kettertel, upon the suggestion being made to him by Mr. Potter Hood, absolutely refused to consider it for an instant. The train was his, he said, and he would insist upon the exclusive use of it. All argument failed to overcome his ungracious objections, and finally the plan had to be abandoned.