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. "There has been a wreck and they have missed it. The special has
obviously run off the metals without disturbing the line--how it could
have done so passes my comprehension--but so it must be, and we shall
have a wire from Kenyon or Barton Moss presently to say that they have
found her at the bottom of an embankment." But Mr. Bland's prophecy was not destined to be fulfilled. Half an hour
passed, and then there arrived the following message from the
station-master of Kenyon Junction--


"There are no traces of the missing special. It is quite certain that
she passed here, and that she did not arrive at Barton Moss. We have
detached engine from goods train, and I have myself ridden down the
line, but all is clear, and there is no sign of any accident." Mr. Bland tore his hair in his perplexity. "This is rank lunacy, Hood!" he cried. "Does a train vanish into thin
air in England in broad daylight? The thing is preposterous. An
engine, a tender, two carriages, a van, five human beings--and all lost
on a straight line of railway! Unless we get something positive within
the next hour I'll take Inspector Collins, and go down myself." And then at last something positive did occur. It took the shape of
another telegram from Kenyon Junction. "Regret to report that the dead body of John Slater, driver of the
special train, has just been found among the gorse bushes at a point
two and a quarter miles from the Junction. Had fallen from his engine,
pitched down the embankment, and rolled among the bushes. Injuries to
his head, from the fall, appear to be cause of death. Ground has now
been carefully examined, and there is no trace of the missing train." The country was, as has already been stated, in the throes of a
political crisis, and the attention of the public was further
distracted by the important and sensational developments in Paris,
where a huge scandal threatened to destroy the Government and to wreck
the reputations of many of the leading men in France. The papers were
full of these events, and the singular disappearance of the special
train attracted less attention than would have been the case in more
peaceful times. The grotesque nature of the event helped to detract
from its importance, for the papers were disinclined to believe the
facts as reported to them. More than one of the London journals treated
the matter as an ingenious hoax, until the coroner's inquest upon the
unfortunate driver (an inquest which elicited nothing of importance)
convinced them of the tragedy of the incident. Mr. Bland, accompanied by Inspector Collins, the senior detective
officer in the service of the company, went down to Kenyon Junction the
same evening, and their research lasted throughout the following day,
but was attended with purely negative results. Not only was no trace
found of the missing train, but no conjecture could be put forward
which could possibly explain the facts. At the same time, Inspector
Collins's official report (which lies before me as I write) served to
show that the possibilities were more numerous than might have been
expected. "In the stretch of railway between these two points," said he, "the
country is dotted with ironworks and collieries. Of these, some are
being worked and some have been abandoned. There are no fewer than
twelve which have small-gauge lines which run trolly-cars down to the
main line. These can, of course, be disregarded. Besides these,
however, there are seven which have, or have had, proper lines running
down and connecting with points to the main line, so as to convey their
produce from the mouth of the mine to the great centres of
distribution. In every case these lines are only a few miles in
length. Out of the seven, four belong to collieries which are worked
out, or at least to shafts which are no longer used. These are the
Redgauntlet, Hero, Slough of Despond, and Heartsease mines, the latter
having ten years ago been one of the principal mines in Lancashire. These four side lines may be eliminated from our inquiry, for, to
prevent possible accidents, the rails nearest to the main line have
been taken up, and there is no longer any connection. There remain
three other side lines leading--

  (a) To the Carnstock Iron Works;
  (b) To the Big Ben Colliery;
  (c) To the Perseverance Colliery. "Of these the Big Ben line is not more than a quarter of a mile long,
and ends at a dead wall of coal waiting removal from the mouth of the
mine. Nothing had been seen or heard there of any special. The
Carnstock Iron Works line was blocked all day upon the 3rd of June by
sixteen truckloads of hematite. It is a single line, and nothing could
have passed. As to the Perseverance line, it is a large double line,
which does a considerable traffic, for the output of the mine is very
large. On the 3rd of June this traffic proceeded as usual; hundreds of
men including a gang of railway platelayers were working along the two
miles and a quarter which constitute the total length of the line, and
it is inconceivable that an unexpected train could have come down there
without attracting universal attention. It may be remarked in
conclusion that this branch line is nearer to St. Helens than the point
at which the engine-driver was discovered, so that we have every reason
to believe that the train was past that point before misfortune
overtook her. "As to John Slater, there is no clue to be gathered from his appearance
or injuries. We can only say that, so far as we can see, he met his
end by falling off his engine, though why he fell, or what became of
the engine after his fall, is a question upon which I do not feel
qualified to offer an opinion." In conclusion, the inspector offered
his resignation to the Board, being much nettled by an accusation of
incompetence in the London papers. A month elapsed, during which both the police and the company
prosecuted their inquiries without the slightest success. A reward was
offered and a pardon promised in case of crime, but they were both
unclaimed. Every day the public opened their papers with the
conviction that so grotesque a mystery would at last be solved, but
week after week passed by, and a solution remained as far off as ever. In broad daylight, upon a June afternoon in the most thickly inhabited
portion of England, a train with its occupants had disappeared as
completely as if some master of subtle chemistry had volatilized it
into gas.