Amongst the many suggestions put forward by various newspapers or
private individuals, there were one or two which were feasible enough to
attract the attention of the public. One which appeared in the _Times_,
over the signature of an amateur reasoner of some celebrity at that
date, attempted to deal with the matter in a critical and
semi-scientific manner. An extract must suffice, although the curious
can see the whole letter in the issue of the 3rd of July. “It is one of the elementary principles of practical reasoning,” he
remarked, “that when the impossible has been eliminated the residuum,
_however improbable_, must contain the truth. It is certain that the
train left Kenyon Junction. It is certain that it did not reach Barton
Moss. It is in the highest degree 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 improbables to the three open lines, namely, the
Carnstock Iron Works, the Big Ben, and the Perseverance. Is there a
secret society of colliers, an English _camorra_, which is capable of
destroying both train and passengers? It is improbable, but it is not
impossible. I confess that I am unable to suggest any other solution. I
should certainly advise the company to direct all their energies towards
the observation of those three lines, and of the workmen at the end of
them. A careful supervision of the pawnbrokers’ shops of the district
might possibly bring some suggestive facts to light.”

The suggestion coming from a recognized authority upon such matters
created considerable interest, and a fierce opposition from those who
considered such a statement to be a preposterous libel upon an honest
and deserving set of men. The only answer to this criticism was a
challenge to the objectors to lay any more feasible explanation before
the public. In reply to this two others were forthcoming (_Times_, July
7th and 9th). The first suggested that the train might have run off the
metals and be lying submerged in the Lancashire and Staffordshire Canal,
which runs parallel to the railway for some hundreds of yards. This
suggestion was thrown out of court by the published depth of the canal,
which was entirely insufficient to conceal so large an object. The
second correspondent wrote calling attention to the bag which appeared
to be the sole luggage which the travellers had brought with them, and
suggesting that some novel explosive of immense and pulverizing power
might have been concealed in it. The obvious absurdity, however, of
supposing that the whole train might be blown to dust while the metals
remained uninjured reduced any such explanation to a farce. The
investigation had drifted into this hopeless position when a new and
most unexpected incident occurred. This was nothing less than the receipt by Mrs. McPherson of a letter
from her husband, James McPherson, who had been the guard of the missing
train. The letter, which was dated July 5th, 1890, was posted from New
York, and came to hand upon July 14th. Some doubts were expressed as to
its genuine character, but Mrs. McPherson was positive as to the
writing, and the fact that it contained a remittance of a hundred
dollars in five-dollar notes was enough in itself to discount the idea
of a hoax. No address was given in the letter, which ran in this way:—

    “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 will
    change into twenty English pounds. This should be enough to bring
    both Lizzie and you across the Atlantic, and 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 would try and send you word how to meet, but
    things are very difficult with 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 confidently anticipated that this letter would lead to
the clearing up of the whole matter, the more so as it was ascertained
that a passenger who bore a close resemblance to the missing guard had
travelled from Southampton under the name of Summers in the Hamburg and
New York liner _Vistula_, which started upon the 7th of June. Mrs.
McPherson and her sister Lizzie Dolton went across to New York as
directed, and stayed for three weeks at the Johnston House, without
hearing anything from the missing man. It is probable that some
injudicious comments in the Press may have warned him that the police
were using them as a bait. However this may be, it is certain that he
neither wrote nor came, and the women were eventually compelled to
return to Liverpool. And so the matter stood, and has continued to stand up to the present
year of 1898. Incredible as it may seem, nothing has transpired during
these eight years which has shed the least light upon the extraordinary
disappearance of the special train which contained Monsieur Caratal and
his companion. Careful inquiries into the antecedents of the two
travellers have only established the fact that Monsieur Caratal was well
known as a financier and political agent in Central America, and that
during his voyage to Europe he had betrayed extraordinary anxiety to
reach Paris. His companion, whose name was entered upon the passenger
lists as Eduardo Gomez, was a man whose record was a violent one, and
whose reputation was that of a bravo and a bully. There was evidence to
show, however, that he was honestly devoted to the interests of Monsieur
Caratal, and that the latter, being a man of puny physique, employed the
other as a guard and protector. It may be added that no information came
from Paris as to what the objects of Monsieur Caratal’s hurried journey
may have been. This comprises all the facts of the case up to the
publication in the Marseilles papers of the recent confession of Herbert
de Lernac, now under sentence of death for the murder of a merchant
named Bonvalot. This statement may be literally translated as follows:—

“It is not out of mere pride or boasting that I give this information,
for, if that were my object, I could tell a dozen actions of mine which
are quite as splendid; but I do it in order that certain gentlemen in
Paris may understand that I, who am able here to tell about the fate of
Monsieur Caratal, can also tell in whose interest and at whose request
the deed was done, unless the reprieve which I am awaiting comes to me
very quickly. Take warning, messieurs, before it is too late! You know
Herbert de Lernac, and you are aware that his deeds are as ready as his
words. Hasten then, or you are lost!