Complete Story. My Fellow Prisoner.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue VIII, 22 February 1902, Page 340

Complete Story. My Fellow Prisoner.

HOW A GREAT GOLD ROBBERY WAS

DEFEATED

How well I remember the first time that 1 was entrusted with the bullion which passes tfirougn the hands of our firm on its way to the Continent. 1 had to escort half-a-dozen packages of golden ingots by the night express irom London to Dover, and I had accomplished that first journey in a state or waking nightmare, the recollection of whicn fills me with shame. But the firm had confidence in me—l justified that confidence, and after a while 1 grew to have unbounded confidence in myself. One autumn evening 1 stood in the office ready for the journey, only waiting until the last package should be brought in; and, ii the truth must be told, the one thought that engrossed me at that moment was a cricket match then going on in Australia. I was buried in the evening paper, gloating over the splendid play when a messenger informed me that Mr. Ashburn wished to see me before 1 left. Lt was not often that the principal remained so late at the office, but important business had detained him that day. 1 went at once to his private room. I was an acknowledged favourite with Mr. Ashburn, and he greeted me with a friendly smile. “ Weil, Watson, so you are just starting? ” he said. “ Immediately, sir.” “ Are you troubled with any mis givings as to this particular journey? ’’ he went on, looking at me curiously. “ Certainly not, sir. What makes you think so?” “ I do not,” he said, in a more satisfied tone. “ Only I have received a mysterious communication informing me that we had better ue on the alert to-night; and, although I make it a rule to pay no attention to anonymous letters, I give you a hint.” “ Don’t believe a word of it, sir,” I cried, warmly. “ Friends never write anonymous letters—they generally turn out to be some trick of the enemy trying to have us at a weak point.” “ I expect you are right,” Mr. Ashburn assented, smiling at my earnestness. “ Well, we shall not play into their hands. But would you like one of the men to go with you? Or shall I send round to Scotland Yard for someone from there to accompany you?” “ Pray don’t, sir,” I entreated, “that kind of people only encumber one with their help.” “ Very well, then,” he said, goodhumouredly; “off with you —only keep your eyes open.” Somewhat ashamed of my swagger, I begged Mr. Ashburn to remember how often I had been on similar journeys, and that 1 was known to every official on the line. Then I ran downstairs and got into my cab. As I had told Mr. Ashburn. I was well known to the railway officials. The guard with whom I expected to go down on this particular journey was a man named Kogers. He and I were great cronies, and had enjoyed many a talk together. It was my habit to travel in the guard’s van, as T never lost sight of mv charge until it reached its destination. On this night, in spite of my boasted self-confidence. 1 found mvself quite looking forward to Rogers' social I companionship. The six unpretending - looking clamped cases were deposited safely in the end van. nnd I took my place near them. The guard seemed busy, nnd did not come up to greet me as was his wont. Indeed, it was not until the train was actually starting, and he sprang in and took his place.

that 1 really saw him. Then I recognised with a start of dismay that it was not my genial friend Kogers, but a sullen, taciturn man, who had not long been in the employment of the company. How he had been promoted guard of the train 1 was at a loss to understand. I was angry with myself for being so disconcerted at his appearance, and addressed him civilly, but he gave me a short, surly answer, and we relapsed into silence.

The guard's van is not a luggage van proper; nevertheless, many odds and ends find their way into it. Boxes brought up late and hurried in at the last moment, or some fragile article entrusted to the guard’s particular care. In the compartment with me were one or two trunks, a child’s mail-cart carefully sewn up in packing cloth, and a small wicker basket. I counted and recounted them, as one is apt to do when staring at the same thing for any length of time. The basket interested me most, as I fancied it contained something alive, and, looking at the label, read “Live pigeon,” and the name of the owner, a wealthy merchant whose hobby was the breeding of carrier pigeons, or. more properly speaking, “homers.” This train of thought led me back to my school days, and so engrossed me that for a while the time slipped by unheeded. I was recalled to myself by our stopping, and knew we had come to the one break in our journey. After that we should not stop again until we reached Dover. Very soon after we had continued our journey the carriage we were in began to rock from side to side, as though the metals were uneven, or something had gone wrong with the coupling of the van to the rest of the train. “What is amiss?” I inquired in as indifferent a tone as I could assume. The guard muttered some incoherent reply, and thrust his head and

shoulders out of the window as if to ascertain what was wrong. I rose from my seat, intending to look from the opposite window, but, before I eould reach it, the face and figure of a man appeared there. Although the train was going at a rapid and uneven rate, he stood on the footboard, holding securely to the door, which he proceeded to open. “It’s all right, young man,” he said, addressing me coolly before 1 could speak; “don’t be alarmed. Sergeant Jones, of Scotland Yard —at your service.” For an instant 1 experienced a feeling of relief, as it flashed across ine that my employer had warned the police after all, and I should not be left to cope with my difficulties alone; but even as the thought struck me I detected a quick look of intelligence pass between the men, and 1 knew that I had now two enemies instead of one to deal with. How the plan of attack would have begun I cannot say, hail not matters been settled for us. The big man had laid his hands heavily upon my shoulders, when the van we were in suddenly broke away from the rest of the train. It rocked wildly for an instant, and then darted forward, the

violence of the impetus throwing us to the ground. My assailant still held me in his iron grip, and one of my feet catching against a case was doubled sharply under me, every bone in the ankle seeming to break. The pain was so intense that for a moment I lost consciousness. When my sense returned the rapid movement of the van had ceased. I kept my eyes closed, hoping to be thought still unconscious. The men had evidently risen to their feet. “Have you got the handcuffs?” I heard the surly voice of the guard ask. There was a pause; the other was doubtless hunting in his pockets. “By Jove!” he muttered blankly; “I must have left them in the other compartment.” “Then the more fool you,” was the savage rejoinder. “I made sure of your having them ready to clap on, and brought no rope, so there’s nothing for it but to put an end to him, and as I said before, dead men tell no tales.” “Not so fast; leave the man to me,” Jones returned decidedly. “Properly managed this job will be a credit to us, but I’ll not risk the chance of swinging.” The van came to a standstill, and I heard the door open and one of the men jump out. He had evidently gone to reconnoitre, for in a few minutes he returned, and an angry altercation ensued. “it’s you that are the fool now,” the voice of Jones said, wrathfully. “After all the weeks you have been up and down this line on purpose, to think you should have botched the business like this.” “What’s the matter now?” growled the other. “Th< way you have overshot the mark. We have passed the place where the horse and cart is waiting a full quarter of a mile.” “How could I tell the thing would shoot on as it did? Any way, it’s done now. and can’t be helped, so you had bi tter bring the cart on here.” “What! With a ploughed field like a quagmire to be crossed! You couldn’t get the cart up empty, and once the ingots were inside it would not move an inch.” The guard asked, in his sulky tone, what was to be done. "There’s nothing for it but to carry the cases between us, ana take them, one by one, to the cart. ' “And what’s to uecome of the chap there?” All this time I had lain perfectly still, and, although my broken limb was torture, the bodily pain was nothing to my mental enguish. When I heard myself referred to I thought it time to speak. I was about to raise myself with difficulty on my elbow when I reflected that it mignt serve my purpose better to be thought even more helpless than I was, so I remained still and called out to them for help. “My foot is broken,” I said, addressing myself to Jones. He lifted it.

"Thats true enough,” he returned coolly; “and so far as we are concerned it’s lucky, for never was horse more surely hob Died.” I requested that 1 might be raised a little, and this the big man did not ungently. Then, looking from one to the other, 1 said: “You have a very cleverly laid plan for possessing yourself of this bullion, and, so far, have carried everything before you. i quite realise that lam in your power. 1 can do nothing; but this 1 will say, that in spite of your present success, 1 consider you a couple of fools.” “Look here, young man, we want none of your preaching, the guard said in a threatening tone. Here the guard would have expressed his opinion of me in deeds, not words, but that ais companion motioned him back. Jones was evidently paying attention to my remarks, so that 1 was encouraged to go on, and, addressing him, I laid my hand on one of the cases near me. “If these boxes were filled with gold coins,” 1 said, “you would be as great a thief for taking them, but I should not consider you as great a fool.” Then I proceeded to explain the difficulty that was always experienced in the disposal of metal in its raw state. The ingots might be hidden, and detection eluded, for weeks, but as soon as an attempt was made to realise their money value the whole truth would come to light, and 1 wound up by declaring my conviction that all the two men would gain by that night’s work would be a term of penal servitude. Perhaps the bold manner in which I had expressed myself met with Jones' approval, for as I finished speaking he nodded at me affably as he remarked: “Maybe there’s truth in what you say, but I’d have you know we are not the fools you take us for, as this business has been well thought out. In a market cart with a few vegetables on top, we shall soon get the cases safely up near Covent Garden, and once there everything is arranged; so that before your people have realised their loss we shall be off, leaving no trace cf the ingots behind.” If they were prepared to dispose of the bullion in this manner it seemed impossible that Mr Ashburn would ever recover it, and I felt siek with pain and disappointment. The men dragged one of the cases to the door, and then Jones turned and informed me that I need have no anxiety about myself. They intended taking me with them and leaving me with a friend upon the road, where I should receive hospitality for a couple of days until they had got a start. Before leaving me the guard was anxious to secure my hands behind me with a handkerchief, and in other ways to add to the tortures of my position. But his companion, whose physical advantages, 1 fancied, made him master of the situation, declared that I could-be left as I was.

When the sound of their footsteps and died away in the distance the place was very still. But after a w“ile a faint rustling sound attracted my attention. Then I saw that the small wicker basket, which I had noticed when 1 first started on the journey, had fallen over and was lying near me. I lifted it up with a feeling of pity for my fellow prisoner. At that instant, like a flash of light, came the thought that here was a way out of the cjifficulty! In a moment I was all excitement. I felt like a doomed man who had just received a reprieve when I fullyrealised the miraculous way in which help had come. As I have said, I had some knowledge of pigeons, and I had great faith in the capabilities of a welltrained homer. At first I was scared by the fear that I had no materials for writing, but, after some search, I found a small notebook with a pencil in it. which was just what I wanted. I did not know exactly how far we were from London, but I imagined between thirty and forty miles. A full-grown pigeon could, I knew, manage that distance with ease, cur-

rying a message weighing threequarters of an ounce. I could make mine lighter.

I took one leaf of the notebook, and, although the writing was necessarily very small, I was careful to make it clear. This took me some time, but at last it was accomplished to my satisfaction, when I rolled it tightly into the smallest possible compass. The next thing needed was something with which to fasten it to the feathers in the pigeon’s tail. A piece of silk was the proper thing, but that, of course, was not to be had. However, “necessity is fhe mother of invention,” and. as I looked about for something that would serve my purpose, I noticed that the cloths around the child’s mail-cart were sewn with strong packing thread. With much difficulty.! succeeded in getting to it, unpicking a few stitches, and drawing out a thread of sufficient length. When all was in readiness, and nothing remained but to fasten on the message, I was assailed with the nervous fear that the men would return. My preparations had taken so long that at any moment they might be back. There was nothing for it but to wait until they had been for a second case, so I waited with what patience I could. At last I heard them approaching. Doubtless getting over the ground with their heavyload had taken them longer than they had expected, for they were in great haste now. Just glancing at me, and apparently satisfied that 1 was exactly as they had left me, they seized another case and were off. As soon as they were gone I opened the basket and drew forth the little crea-

ture upon whom so much depended. The business of fastening on the tiny billet was soon accomplished. It was not an easy task for me to reach the open door of the van, but the torture I endured as I made my way through the many obstacles, was scarcely thought of in my anxiety to start my messenger. 1 stood up, grasping with one hand the frame of the doorway, and, leaning out, 1 threw the bird up as well as I was able. Fortunately, the mists of the earlier part of the evening had gone, and the atmosphere was very clear. I saw the pigeon circling high above me. and then it disappeared. The nervous excitement that had kept me up so far suddenly left me, and 1 fell into a state of collapse. The hours that followed were so hopelessly confused that 1 could not say what happened. I only know that I was moved from one place to another and that movement was torture, but that when left alone I sank into a drowsy stupor. At length, coming suddenly out of a strange dream, 1 found an anxious face leaning over me, and recognised Mr Ashburn. As I saw his troubled look I feared that the worst had happened, but he hastened to assure me. “It’s all right, my dear fellow,” he said, heartily, as he took my hand in his. “Both the thieves and their booty are in safe custody. You have acted splendidly. My only regret is that it has been at so much personal cost.” And so from what after all was sheer luck I found myself regarded in the light of a hero instead of a culprit.