The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 41: Chasing Down a Train

Holmes and Lawler were each off like a shot, but my poor beast was frightened and not keen on keeping up with the others. I watched in dismay as Holmes continued to out-pace me and Lawler passed me. I tried urging the creature faster, but to my increasing frustration, it would not. I could only hope the other two could capture Crowe without me.

I reached the edge of Wall Lake and headed for the train station. As I slowed my horse to a halt, I saw Holmes jogging toward me.

"What on earth are you doing?" I asked. "Is Crowe not on that train?"

"He is, but you are not," Holmes replied.

I dismounted and led the horse to the stable boy. "I'd better fix that, then," I said. "What of Lawler?"

"Already on board," said Holmes.

The train whistle shrieked, and the locomotive began to chug slowly down the line.

"It's not due to leave for six minutes!" Holmes cried.

"Crowe," I growled.

"Take Lawler's horse!" Holmes shouted over the noise of the train.

There was no time to explain things to the poor stable boy, so we dashed into the stable and retrieved the horses. I tossed him a dime, hoping it would keep him from blocking our progress.

"Du bist verrückt! Die pferde!" he cried.

The wound in my side stung more than a little as I mounted and rushed toward the train. It had only a small head start, but we were barely gaining ground and soon it would reach speeds the horses could not match. We careened forward at a dangerous pace, Holmes mere feet in front of me, until we reached the last car of the train. It was a caboose with a little deck, metal safety rails surrounding the area. Holmes grabbed the rail, his horse keeping perfect pace with the train, and he swung himself up and into the car. His horse fell behind, and I urged mine closer to the train. The whistle sounded shrilly as the train continued to accelerate. Why wasn't Lawler pulling the emergency brake?

With a great effort, my horse gained several yards on the train, but it was not quite close enough. It was matching pace now, but that was about all it could do, and the locomotive was still picking up speed. I urged the poor beast a little closer, but the observation deck railing was still too far for me to reach the top of the bars.

"Give me your arms!" Holmes shouted over the roar of the train.

I stretched my left hand upwards and Holmes grabbed my forearm. I swallowed hard; I was not certain Holmes could lift my weight.

"Quickly!" he yelled.

I took a deep breath, let go of the reins, and grabbed Holmes' other arm. With a lurch, I realised my feet had nowhere to rest and I struggled to pull them up to the deck so I would not lose them under the train. My old war wound and injured side seared with pain and I could feel my arms slipping out of Holmes'.

With a sudden effort, my friend wrenched me up and over the bar and we collapsed on the floor of the observation car as the horses' forms retreated into the distance.

"Thank you," I gasped.

Holmes gave a nod in response and rose to his feet. I did likewise, my shoulder and side aching and burning, respectively.

"You have your revolver?" Holmes asked.

I nodded and pulled it from my coat pocket, glad it had not been jostled out during our journey. "And you your pistol?"

"I should hope so," he replied, holding it aloft.

"Crowe will likely be somewhere near the front of the train," I said, "assuming he has taken it hostage."

"He could be anywhere on the train," Holmes replied. "But it would seem he wanted the train to leave early and urged them to drive as quickly as possible."

"Time is short, then," I said.

Holmes nodded. "Come, but let us move stealthily, lest Crowe sink to shooting at us in an occupied passenger car." He tested the door to the inside of the train. It was locked. I made to retrieve the small lock pick I keep in the handkerchief in my sleeve, but Holmes was already rummaging through his own set of lock picks. He selected one and was about to begin his work when the door swung open from inside, courtesy of our friend Lawler.

I was about to thank him, but the words died on my lips when I saw that he had clearly been beaten, tied, and thrown back here.

"What happened?" I asked after removing the handkerchief tied round his mouth and set to help Holmes untie the ropes binding his hands and feet.

"When I boarded, Crowe was speaking with the conductor, and asked if he could have a word with me in back. I saw the pistol in his hip holster and made to draw on him, but my revolver wasn't there. Must've fallen from my pocket en route and I didn't notice. He dragged me back here, laughed at me, and punched me in the face," Lawler spat.

"Did any of the passengers notice this?" Holmes asked.

"Oh, yes," Lawler replied. "Crowe told them I was the Blomberg jewel thief, and that Holmes was trying to ensure I got away with it."

"The bloody scoundrel!" I exclaimed. I looked to Holmes, hoping he would say what we ought to do first, but he stood silently, lips pursed. I helped Lawler to his feet.

"Watson," said Holmes.

"I am all ears," I replied.

"You must convince the people on this train to take our side and expose Crowe as the liar and thief that he is."

"Me?" I asked, startled and a little horrified.

Holmes nodded. "Lawler and I have been thoroughly discredited," said he. "If either of us enter the passenger car now, some might be liable to shoot first and ask questions later. But you, Watson, have nothing save your association with me to incriminate you."

Lawler broke in. "Folks around here can't help but like you. They'll listen."

"But what do I say?"

"Tell them the truth," said Holmes. "We have fifteen minutes before we reach Sac City and may lose Crowe forever." He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket and clapped them into my hand.

I slipped them in my own pocket, stomach churning. I felt like an actor who heard his cue but had forgotten every one of his lines. I couldn't do this.

"Quickly, Watson," said Holmes.

"Good luck," said Lawler, clapping me on the back.

I was certain I would need it.