Monsieur Caratal was shown up to Mr. Bland’s office, while his companion
remained outside. Monsieur Caratal’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
insure that the line should be clear. The powerful engine called
Rochdale (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 travellers. The other three were empty. The guard of
the special train was James McPherson, who had been some years in the
service of the company. The stoker, William Smith, was a new hand. Monsieur Caratal, upon leaving the superintendent’s office, rejoined his
companion, and both of them manifested extreme impatience to be off. Having paid the money 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 Caratal 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 Caratal’s
train, and should travel in the other empty first-class compartment, if
Monsieur Caratal objected to having him in the one which he occupied. It
was difficult to see any objection to such an arrangement, and yet
Monsieur Caratal, 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. Mr. Horace Moore left the station in great
distress, after learning that his only course was to take the ordinary
slow train which leaves Liverpool at six o’clock. At four thirty-one
exactly by the station clock the special train, containing the crippled
Monsieur Caratal and his gigantic companion, steamed out of the
Liverpool station. The line was at that time clear, and there should
have been no stoppage before Manchester. The trains of the London and West Coast Railway run over the lines of
another company as far as this town, which should have been reached by
the special rather before six o’clock. At a quarter after six
considerable surprise and some consternation were caused amongst the
officials at Liverpool by the receipt of a telegram from Manchester to
say that it had not yet arrived. An inquiry directed to St. Helens,
which is a third of the way between the two cities, elicited the
following reply:—

“To James Bland, Superintendent, Central L. & W. C., Liverpool.—Special
passed here at 4.52, well up to time.—Dowser, St. Helens.”

This telegram was received at 6.40. At 6.50 a second message was
received from Manchester:—

“No sign of special as advised by you.”

And then ten minutes later a third, more bewildering:—

“Presume some mistake as to proposed running of special. Local train
from St. Helens timed to follow it has just arrived and has seen nothing
of it. Kindly wire advices.—Manchester.”

The matter was assuming a most amazing aspect, although in some respects
the last telegram was a relief to the authorities at Liverpool. If an
accident had occurred to the special, it seemed hardly possible that the
local train could have passed down the same line without observing it. And yet, what was the alternative? Where could the train be? Had it
possibly been side-tracked for some reason in order to allow the slower
train to go past? Such an explanation was possible if some small repair
had to be effected. A telegram was dispatched to each of the stations
between St. Helens and Manchester, and the superintendent and traffic
manager waited in the utmost suspense at the instrument for the series
of replies which would enable them to say for certain what had become of
the missing train. The answers came back in the order of questions,
which was the order of the stations beginning at the St. Helens end:—

“Special passed here five o’clock.—Collins Green.”

“Special passed here six past five.—Earlestown.”

“Special passed here 5.10.—Newton.”

“Special passed here 5.20.—Kenyon Junction.”

“No special train has passed here.—Barton Moss.”

The two officials stared at each other in amazement. “This is unique in my thirty years of experience,” said Mr. Bland. “Absolutely unprecedented and inexplicable, sir. The special has gone
wrong between Kenyon Junction and Barton Moss.”

“And yet there is no siding, so far as my memory serves me, between the
two stations. The special must have run off the metals.”

“But how could the four-fifty parliamentary pass over the same line
without observing it?”

“There’s no alternative, Mr. Hood. It _must_ be so. Possibly the local
train may have observed something which may throw some light upon the
matter. We will wire to Manchester for more information, and to Kenyon
Junction with instructions that the line be examined instantly as far as
Barton Moss.”

The answer from Manchester came within a few minutes. “No news of missing special. Driver and guard of slow train positive no
accident between Kenyon Junction and Barton Moss. Line quite clear, and
no sign of anything unusual.—Manchester.”

“That driver and guard will have to go,” said Mr. Bland, grimly.