Frank Thomas - Sherlock Holmes and the Treasure Train

Wally had a ready answer. "The gold is ready for shipment. On behalf of the Credit Lyonnais, I would make payment to the west coast banks when the Inter-Ocean insurance policy is made out in favor of the Credit Lyonnais. That way if the gold is not delivered, the French banking firm is covered for the entire period of the transaction."

"Hananish said the insurance policy was made out to the Birmingham and Northern, which was committed to turn it over to the west coast banks if the gold disappeared."

"Did he, now? Then Hananish and his banking cronies had the French payment and the gold and in addition were covered by the Inter-Ocean insurance policy."

In spite of myself, I found words again. "Hananish stated specifically that the French certificates became valueless if the gold shipment was stolen."

The American exhibited a wise smile that had the good grace not to seem condescending. "I'm willing to accept the possibility that the French issued some sort of dated certificates that cease to be convertible if the gold shipment does not cross the Channel. It's cumbersome, but not all things are done the easy way. Even so, for a brief period, the bankers here have half a million in gold and also something more than that in Credit Lyonnais notes. A million pounds all told and when you are dealing with that much money, a day or even an hour can make a big difference."

Faced with such logic, I could do naught but agree. "And they were insured as well, as you pointed out," I said.

"We certainly have meat for the table of thought here," said Holmes, and I knew he was fascinated by the possibilities that had opened up. "Our visit to the financier bore richer dividends than we expected, Watson. Perhaps it was worth the difficulties you encountered later."

Noting my gesture of agreement, Holmes' attention returned to the American. "We seem to have explored the matter of Burton Hananish thoroughly. Do you have anything to mention?"

"Yes and it makes more sense now that there is the aroma of stale fish in the air." Wally's eyes shifted to Orloff briefly. "A chance remark by your friend the bank examiner put me on to something just before coming here. Hananish may be trading very heavily in gold, for he just might have sold four hundred thousand pounds' worth to the Deutsche Bank."

Holmes' noble head, lowered in thought, suddenly jerked upward. Orloff looked puzzled.

"What does that have to do with this French situation?"

"Probably nothing, but for a small bank Hananish is certainly active in precious metals. I don't know whether this German sale was made through the consortium of banks or not. If Hananish transacted it solo, he has a lot of gold available."

Holmes' voice was never calmer, but there was a bright light in his eyes. "When Watson and I spoke with him, the financier mentioned that the Credit Lyonnais might go to the Deutsche Bank for the gold it now needs. He was quick to cover up the statement, but those were his words."

Wally had bounded to his feet, his handsome face aglow. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes?"

"I imagine we are all savoring the idea," responded the sleuth. "A half a million is stolen from the Birmingham and Northern flyer, and of a sudden, Hananish has four hundred thousand available to sell to the Germans."

"We've got him, Mr. Holmes," exclaimed the American. "He's nailed to the cross."

"But we shall follow the diplomatic adage and make haste slowly," said my friend in a cautionary manner. Of course he was stimulated, nay downright excited. He had to be, for it would seem that detailed investigation, a careful sifting of facts, and a meticulous piecing together of the pieces of a puzzle had paid off again. All the things that Holmes had lectured me on since our first coming together had again proved their worth, but my intimate friend was always intent on tightening the net until not a minnow could escape.

His keen face centered on Orloff. "First we must check the amount of gold that Hananish might have access to." Now the sleuth's eyes speared the ebullient American. "The details of the Deutsche Bank sale can be secured, I'm sure."

Wally, who had recovered his composure, nodded.

"And now, Watson and I must return to London on the evening train for there is a shooting match between the Bagatelle Club rifle squad and Alvidon Chasseur's Wellington Club team."

Both Orloff and Wally looked befuddled at this sudden switch of subjects, and Holmes elaborated with a chuckle. "From the very beginning of this tangled skein, the army, in an unofficial way, has been in evidence. The late Ezariah Trelawney and Ramsey Michael were veterans of the Crimea War, as is Burton Hananish. The security chief of the B & N railroad was formerly with the army of India. Lastly, the robbery of the Birmingham and Northern flyer was planned like a military maneuver, while a number of big businesses are hiring former army personnel for their expertise with firearms. I do not choose to accept this as a coincidence. Come, Watson, we'd best make ready for our journey to London." There was a pleased lilt to Holmes' voice, for he was returning to Baker Street.

Chapter 12

At the Wellington Gun Club

ON THE train back from Gloucester, Holmes was wrapped up in his thoughts. I did not intrude on them, feeling that he was planning his next move. While he had made mention of the marksmanship contest, surely there were more leads to be followed and Holmes could not have anticipated the results of our journey to the west coast.

We were approaching Reading when the sleuth roused himself from a thoughtful silence and seemed disposed to discuss the matter, which found great favor with me, as I had my usual assortment of questions.

"Watson, there's more to it, you know." He was gazing out the window at the passing countryside, and I forced myself to smother a banal response like, "There is?"

"But we should be thankful for that," he continued.

Confound it , I thought. Where is his mind taking him now?

"The simple matters are the most frustrating."

"How so?"

"Recall, if you will, that Jack the Ripper fellow. Back in eighty-eight, it was."

"I'm not likely to forget him. But you can't consider those brutal murders a simple affair."

Holmes turned from our carriage window with surprise in his eyes. "Was there any indication that the Ripper even knew his victims?"

"Well, the killings were most all in Whitechapel."

"But no one was uncovered who had known the seven poor souls and could have been the murderer."

"What is your point?"

"The matter of Jack the Ripper was basically a simple one."

"Oh come now, he was never found. There was much hue and cry that you should be put on the case."

An expression of distaste crossed Holmes' features. "I well remember those newspaper stories—all motivated by a desire for sensationalism, which our press is not averse to. They were certainly not the result of honest conviction unless written by idiots, which is within the realm of possibility."

"Your use of simple jars me."

"I did not say easy. The fact is that the streetwalker murders were committed with no thought of profit or gain. They were wanton killings by an insane person to fulfill some inner compulsion. What was the prime clue? The occupation of the victims, somehow tied in with the force that drove the Ripper to raw murder. How could I have been of service in the matter? Catching him required a dragnet effort—the searching of doctor's records to locate someone with a deranged mind who might have been impelled to launch a vendetta against prostitutes. The far-flung facilities of Scotland Yard were much more suited for a search of that type than you or I, Watson."

"You feel, then, that he will never be caught?"