August Derleth - The Solar Pons Omnibus Volume 1

by August Derleth

  He looked quizzically over at me, his left eyebrow raised.

  "What do you make of it, Parker?"

  "Well, it is obviously moonshine," I said. "A locomotive simply can't disappear without a trace."

  "Yet it seems to have done so," retorted Pons. "I am afraid our good Inspector Jamison has proceeded on the theory that you have just advanced, that the locomotive did not actually vanish. Let us, on the contrary, assume that it did; it is no more difficult to adduce an explanation for the one as for the other, whatever Jamison may believe."

  "Very well, then," I said, nettled. "Perhaps it was lifted off the line from the air."

  Pons, however, did not smile. "Until we have evidence to the contrary, no theory, no matter how absurd it may seem, can be discarded. I fear, in view of the attendant weather, that an air-lift is out of the question. Let us ask ourselves what possible motive could there be for causing the special locomotive to vanish."

  "Mason needed it."

  "Ah, now we are being facetious," said Pons, wagging a finger at me in admonition.

  "Well, Pons, I am no good at this sort of thing," I replied. "I should like to hear your explanation."

  "Ah, it is beyond my poor powers at this point. But I submit one or two little aspects of the problem for your consideration. The object of the disappearance, I think we are safe in taking it, was not the locomotive, but its passenger."

  "Mason?"

  "James H. Mason, an American. Now, I submit that is a significant detail. He is not a tourist, for his course is fixed and purposeful. He is evidently a man of means, but he prefers to travel alone; he registers at a hotel like Bohn's, instead of one of the larger and costlier hostelries, where he might be more easily seen. We are not far wrong, I fancy, in assuming that he would like to keep himself as unobtrusive as possible. He is a man with a mission; he must get to Sheffield as early as possible, at least by ten o'clock. Why ten o'clock?"

  "He has an appointment," I ventured.

  "But would not an appointee wait upon an envoy come from so great a distance? I am afraid, Parker, that if our Mr. Mason flew to England to be in Sheffield at ten o'clock, this was a mission which could not be delayed. Very well, then, what sort of mission might it be? That, too, is not difficult to guess."

  "You know?" I demanded incredulously.

  "In matters of this kind, one can make certain deductions. I rather think they are not wide of the mark. Sheffield is an industrial city, and I daresay there are important meetings held in that city every day. Does not the hour, ten o'clock, suggest some kind of business meeting?"

  "It does."

  "Just hand me the Financial Times, will you?"

  He took the paper and studied its columns. But he was not long in finding what he sought.

  "Ah, I fancy this is what we want. 'Northern Steel Stockholders Meeting.' The hour is ten o'clock, in the office of the President of the corporation. I submit, Parker, that a stockholders' meeting is not to be delayed by the non-arrival of such stockholders as are interested enough to want to attend. Such a meeting could hardly be postponed by any other means than a majority vote of the stockholders themselves."

  I pondered for some moments what my companion intended to suggest. "But who would have any reason to want to prevent the American's attendance?" I protested. "After all, if it is a matter of votes, he is but one man against a certain majority."

  "Ah, you are back on the air-lift," said Pons dryly.

  "And, if it were meant to abduct him, what possible excuse could there be for waiting until he got so far out of London?"

  "Oh, that is elementary indeed, Parker. It must surely be obvious even to you with a little thought."

  "It is very easy to brush my objections aside, Pons," I said. "That is not answering them."

  "They answer themselves if only you will give yourself time enough to think about them."

  With this, Pons turned to the front page of The Times.

  "There is nothing in the paper," I said. "I looked."

  "So I see. I observe, however, a paragraph on corporate difficulties in Northern Steel. 'Lord Delapoer, Chairman of the Board, has indicated that he anticipates no change in the policies which the Board has followed in the administration of the Northern Steel, despite the agitation of Balfour Danals, who is, according to Lord Delapoer, only a minority stockholder." Pons lowered the paper and gazed thoughtfully over at me. "That suggests nothing to you, Parker?"

  "Nothing."

  He smiled fleetingly, folded the paper, and threw it down. "My concern at the moment is primarily about the locomotive," he went on. "I am satisfied about Mason, but the locomotive perplexes me."

  "I am surprised to hear it."

  "I don't wonder. Of course, it is evident that it was taken over one of the three branch-lines of the road between Girton and Kendon-on-Lea. I daresay we shall discover which one in due time."

  He lapsed into silence and sat with his head sunk upon his chest, his eyes closed, his restless fingers beating a tattoo on the arm of the seat. In this fashion he traveled into the dawn to our arrival in mid- morning at Girton where a special investigator for the Great Northern awaited us in the company of the station-master.

  The investigator, a rotund, red-cheeked man in his late middle years, introduced himself as Robinson Melward. The station-master was a transplanted Cockney, James Byron, who looked very harassed and tired at the moment of our arrival, though the presence of Solar Pons seemed to stimulate him to renewed wakefulness, and he was eager to explain his role, however negative, in the puzzling problem of the missing locomotive.

  "I seen her go by, like I reported; I sent in my report by wire, and first thing I knew there was the home office calling for more information. Had I seen her go back? No, sir, I had not. Then the wires begun to come hot and heavy, and first thing you know the regular went through. So I reported that and everything broke loose. Next thing I know Mr. Melward arrived, and a detective- inspector assigned from London, and the lot of us couldn't find a trace of old 177 anywhere."

  Pons did nothing to stem his loquacity, which did not last long, for he was obliged to telephone up and down the line in order to ascertain that traffic would be slowed and warned of our presence on the line. Then we set out, leaving the assistant station-master in charge at Girton. Our conveyance was not the light engine suggested but a motor-driven car, similar in construction to a handcar, but shielded on three sides from wind and weather, with an open back, allowing for freedom of movement to and from the car.

  The rain had ceased, but a fine mist stung our faces despite the slowness of our progress along the line. Pons was so constantly off the car, examining the road-bed, that he might as well have walked the distance. The first branch to which we came found us shunted off the main line.

  "The regular from the north is due down," explained Byron. "We'll just wait here."

  Pons looked along the length of the line, which vanished into a denser mist.

  "Which of the three branches is this, Mr. Byron?" he asked.

  "It goes in to the Green Star Colliery, Mr. Pons. Not much used. Just for the coal-trucks now and then. The seam's about petered out."

  A locomotive's whistle sounded from the north, and in a moment the rumble of an approaching train rose out of the mist.

  "Here she comes," said Byron with a proprietary air. He looked at his watch. "Right on time, too."

  The train which swept by was evidently the night express from

  Scotland, for it included several sleepers. While we were watching it pass, my companion vanished along the dense, foggy branch-line.

  "No need to walk, Mr. Pons," said Byron. "We can take the car in."

  Forthwith he started up the car. We caught up to Pons, who was running along the line, bent and hunched in an almost ape-like manner, peering intently from one side of the line to the other, as if he hoped to discover some evidence that previous investigation had failed to disclose. In this fashion we reached the mine itself, and th
e car stopped at a buffer-stop across the line. This Pons examined with singular intentness, observing the mouth of the mine yawning blackly ahead.

  "We thought it might be large enough for a locomotive to get into," said Melward, observing Pons's interest. "But the plain fact is the buffers haven't been moved. The mine-police were here all the time; there's one over there right now if you want to talk to him."

  Melward beckoned the police-officer toward the car. He was a heavy-set man, with a porcine face which was set and determined; his aspect was unfriendly. Pons gazed at him intently; a little smile touched his lean lips.

  "Porker Kelvay, isn't it," he said. "On your good behaviour now, eh?"

  The policeman backed away.

  "Nothing happen here last night, Porker?" asked Pons.

  "Nothing, Mr. Pons. I swear to God, Mr. Pons, that's the straight of it. That's the way it was. I was here. ..."

  Pons swung up to the car once more and directed Byron to go ahead, leaving Kelvay to stand open-mouthed behind him.

  Melward was immediately curious. "You know that man?"

  "He served a brief term for assault and robbery ten years ago," said Pons. "I appeared against him."

  We returned to the main line and went along as before. There was no sign that the mist was altering in density; it grew neither thicker nor any less dense. The humid air was strongly aromatic; briefly, after the passing of the train from the north, of the acrid smoke from the locomotive; thereafter of the dampened landscape, of water and earth.

  Pons continued to move off and back on to the car. At the second branch he repeated his examination, going into the mine it served, and marking the semi-abandonment of the line, which came to a

  dead-end, and had evidently not been used for some time. Then once again we waited on the spur for a slow train to pass from the south.

  At last we reached the place on the line to which the Company's siding had been extended. Byron would have gone on to Kendon- on-Lea, had not Pons interposed objection.

  "What were those points we passed, Mr. Byron?"

  "Tracks taken up a year or two ago, sir."

  "All the way?"

  "No, sir—just part."

  "Let us just have a look at them."

  Byron obediently reversed the car and we returned to the points.

  Pons sprang off. He examined the earth about the switch with great care and then the points themselves.

  "They have been oiled recently," he said.

  Byron agreed that it was possible the points had been oiled. "The men come along and oil them the same as always. You gets into a kind of habit, you might say."

  "The abandoned yards lie over in this direction, I take it?" asked Pons.

  "Yes, sir."

  "How far?"

  "Oh, just around that bend. A mile, hardly more."

  "Let us take the car off the line and leave it while we walk over to the yards."

  "We have been there, Mr. Pons," said Melward, faintly reproving.

  "Doubtless. If it is all the same to you, however, I will have a look for myself."

  We bent to it and swung the car off the line and left it. Then, with Byron leading the way, vociferous in his perplexity at Pons's wish to examine the abandoned yards, we made our way to the sidings, which were far more extensive than we had imagined.

  Here we found a virtual graveyard for outmoded and worn equipment which waited to be broken up for scrap. Quite clearly, in one part of the sidings, a salvage-firm had been breaking up equipment, for a wagonload of scrap-iron waited to be moved. Meanwhile, however, the lines in the siding were occupied by goods-wagons, low-loaders, and even three engines.

  "These locomotives do not look worn out to me," said Pons.

  "One can see you're not a railway man, Mr. Pons," said Melward

  good-naturedly. "These locomotives have been here for some time, and they are ready to be broken up. Look at this one —this is old number 169. Over here is 305, and there is 729. All ready for the scrap-pile."

  "And who undertakes their disposal?"

  "That is out of my department, Mr. Pons. A scrap-iron company has taken over everything in these yards. Whenever they break up an engine, we are notified so that our registry shows its ultimate disposal. I think even you will admit that it would be impossible to break up a locomotive like this in the interval since its disappearance; it could not be done."

  "Perhaps not impossible, Mr. Melward," replied Pons imper- turbably. "But I concede it is highly improbable. One ought not to confuse the impossible with the improbable."

  So saying, Pons went from one to another of the locomotives, popping in and out of the cabs. Melward looked wordlessly from Byron to me, restraining his astonishment with difficulty. In the grey morning the flickering of Pons's torch could be seen from time to time. When he came back to where we waited presently, he offered no explanation of his curiosity.

  "I don't know what you may be thinking, Mr. Pons," said Melward. "But these three locomotives have been here for quite a time. Their numbers check with those in our reports; no locomotive has been dismantled here for two months."

  "Has anything at all been dismantled here recently?" pressed Pons.

  "Nothing but three old carriages. Would you like to examine the rest of the rolling-stock?"

  "I think not," replied Pons, with a smile. He took out his watch and consulted it. "We have made good time. But we shall have to make better. When is the next train due for the north?"

  "To what place, Mr. Pons?"

  "Sheffield."

  "Within half an hour. If we hurry, we can just make Kendon-on- Lea, Mr. Pons," said Byron.

  "Then by all means let us hurry."

  For the remainder of the distance to Kendon-on-Lea, Pons gave but scant attention to the line. He seemed to be preoccupied, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his head lowered into the now thinning mist, his eyes extremely thoughtful.

  We reached Kendon-on-Lea just in time to catch the northbound train. We had but a few moments to quit the car, obtain tickets, and bid farewell to Melward and Byron, who were to return to Girton as soon as the northbound train had passed. The through train came in, halted through the good offices of Oscar Jeffries, the station-master at Kendon-on-Lea; we boarded it, and were off.

  "According to the timetable," said Pons, "we should reach Sheffield at about eleven o'clock."

  "I confess I am at a loss to know why we are going to Sheffield," I began cautiously. "If the locomotive could not have reached London, it could hardly have reached Sheffield."

  "That is an excellent deduction, Parker," answered Pons, his keen eyes twinkling. "No, it is not the locomotive we are now seeking; it is its missing passenger."

  "I am afraid you have the advantage of me."

  "Surely not by much, Parker. Certain facts are salient. Let us consider that it was clearly intended that Mason should not reach the stockholders' meeting of Northern Steel. It is not too far-fetched to assume that no matter what means Mason used to reach Sheffield, his enemies would have made certain that he did not reach his goal. That presupposes the most elaborate planning, to take care of any contingency, for we cannot doubt but that Mason was shadowed from the moment he landed at Croydon. Such preparations, in turn, suggest that if money was no object to Mason, it was even less so to his enemies. Powerful men involved in a jousting for power, Parker.

  "No matter, then, what avenue to Sheffield Mason took, his enemies were prepared. If he came by car, I have no doubt he would have been abducted even sooner. If he came by the regular train, can you question but that the determined men who oppose him would have managed somehow to take him? As soon as it was evident that he was traveling by special train, the information was passed on to the particular team detailed to take care of this contingency. That team would have to take care of such little niceties as luring the engine-driver from the locomotive and substituting one of their own men with forged credentials, as well as of knocking out the fireman and th
rowing him from the locomotive, to say nothing of the actual removal of the locomotive itself, by way of tracks laid down and then taken up again."

  "You suggest that a large number of people have been employed in this venture."

  "I submit that it could not have been done otherwise. Consider, no one could know in advance just how Mason would attempt to reach Sheffield. Every possible contingency would of necessity have to be covered. Since that is true, a large number of people must necessarily be employed. Such employment, in turn, suggests that a very large sum of money is at the disposal of the engineers of this daring plan. I think we shall find that Mason was serving in the capacity of a far more important emissary than our friend, Jamison, for instance, conceives."

  Pons said no more. He sat the rest of the way to Sheffield in complete relaxation, his eyes closed. At the station in Sheffield he dismounted with alacrity, hailed a cab, and gave the address of the building in which the stockholders' meeting of Northern Steel was presumably now in progress.

  "Surely Mason is not there!"

  "Just as surely someone there is in a position to lead us to him, unless murder too has been done."

  "By what means do you hope to find him, Pons? This is rash."

  "Frontal assault, my dear Parker. There are circumstances in which no other course is possible —or desirable."

  At the Northern Steel building, Pons asked for Lord Delapoer, representing the nature of his business as urgent. In the face of an adamant clerk, Pons wrote a brief note, and sent it by the clerk's hand into the meeting.

  Within a very few moments, an angry middle-aged man came bursting from the stockholders' meeting to confront Pons.

  "Mr. Solar Pons!" he exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this outrageous message?"

  "Lord Delapoer," replied Pons. "Pray do not underrate my intelligence; I have not underrated yours. If my message had no bearing, it would not have seemed outrageous to you. Since it does seem so, it is manifestly pertinent."

  " 'In the matter of James H. Mason. All is known,' " read Lord Delapoer, his white moustache bristling still. "You have signed it."