The Iron Horse, R. M. Ballantyne [howl and other poems .txt] 📗

dismissed from our lines for a single week, the descent of a host of thieves and scoundrels to commit wide-spread plunder would teach the public somewhat severely how much they owe to the efficient management of this department of railway business, and how well, constantly and vigilantly—though unobtrusively—their interests are cared for.

But to return. Mr Sharp, as we have said stood communing with himself and diving into the future. Apparently his thoughts afforded him some amusement, for his eyes twinkled slightly, and there was a faintly humorous twist about the corners of his mouth.

David Blunt sat at a desk near him, writing diligently. Against the wall over his head hung a row of truncheons. Besides the desk, a bench, two or three wooden chairs, and a chest, there was little furniture in the room.

Blunt’s busy pen at length ceased to move, and Sharp looked at him.

“Well, Blunt,” he said, “I see nothing for it but to make a railway porter of you.”

“By all means, sir,” said Blunt, with a smile, laying down his pen.

“Gorton station,” continued Sharp, “has become a very nest of thieves. It is not creditable that such a state of things should exist for a week on our line. They have managed things very cleverly as yet. Five or six bales of cloth have disappeared in the course of as many days, besides several loaves of sugar and half-a-dozen cheeses. I am pretty sure who the culprits are, but can’t manage to bring it home to them, so, as I have said, we must convert you into a porter. You have only been once engaged on this part of the line—that was at the accident when you were so hard on poor Mr Gurwood, so that none of the Gorton people will know you. I have arranged matters with our passenger superintendent. It seems that Macdonell, the station-master at Gorton, has been complaining that he is short-handed and wants another porter. That just suits us, so we have resolved to give you that responsible situation. You will get a porter’s uniform from—”

At this point Mr Sharp was interrupted by the door opening violently, and a detective in plain clothes entering with a stout young man in his grasp.

“Who have we here?” asked Mr Sharp.

“Man travelling without a ticket sir,” replied the detective, whose calm demeanour was in marked contrast to the excitement of his prisoner.

“Ha! come here; what have you to say for yourself?” demanded the superintendent of the man.

Hereupon the man began a violent exculpation of himself, which entailed nearly half-an-hour of vigorous cross-questioning, and resulted in his giving a half-satisfactory account of himself, some trustworthy references to people in town, and being set free.

This case having been disposed of, Mr Sharp resumed his conversation with Blunt.

“Having been changed, then, into a railway porter, Blunt, you will proceed to Gorton to discharge your duties there, and while doing so you will make uncommonly good use of your eyes, ears, and opportunities.”

Mr Sharp smiled and Blunt chuckled, and at the same time Joseph Tipps entered the room.

“Good-evening, Mr Sharp,” he said. “Well, anything more about these Gorton robberies?”

“Nothing more yet, Mr Tipps, but we expect something more soon, for a new porter is about to be sent to the station.”

Tipps, who was a very simple matter-of-fact man in some ways, looked puzzled.

“Why, how will the sending of a new porter to the station throw light on the matter?”

“You shall know in the course of time, Mr Tipps,” replied the superintendent. “We have wonderful ways of finding out things here.”

“Indeed you have,” said Tipps; “and, by the way, that reminds me that they have some wonderful ways of finding out things on the Continent as well as here. I have just heard of a clever thing done by a German professor. It seems that on one of the lines—I forget which—a large box full of silver-plate was despatched. It had a long way to go, and before reaching its destination the plate was stolen, and the box filled up with sand. On this being discovered, of course every sort of investigation was set on foot, but without success. At last the thing came to the ears of a professor of chemistry—or the police went to him, I don’t know which—and it occurred to him that he might get a clue to the thieves by means of the sand in the box. You see the great difficulty the police had, was to ascertain at which of the innumerable stations on the long line, it was likely that the theft had taken place. The professor ordered samples of the sand at all the stations on the line to be sent to him. These he analysed and examined with the microscope, and found that one of the samples was precisely similar in all respects to the sand in the box. The attention of the police was at once concentrated on the station from which that sand had been gathered, and in a short time the guilty parties were discovered and the theft brought home to them. Now, wasn’t that clever?”

“Very good, very good, indeed,” said Mr Sharp, approvingly, “and rather peculiar. I had a somewhat peculiar case myself last week. You know some time ago there was a quantity of cloth stolen on this line, for which, by the way, we had to pay full compensation. Well, I could not get any clue to the thieves, but at last I thought of a plan. I got some patterns of the cloth from the party that lost it, and sent one of these to every station on the line where it was likely to have been stolen. Just the other day I got a telegram from Croon station stating that a man had been seen going about in a new suit exactly the same as the pattern. Off I went immediately, pounced on the man, taxed him with the theft, and found the remainder of the cloth in his house.”

“Capital,” exclaimed Tipps, “that was smartly managed. And, by the way, wasn’t there something about a case of stealing muffs and boas lately?”

“Yes, and we got hold of that thief too, the day before yesterday,” replied Mr Sharp. “I felt sure, from the way in which the theft was committed, that it must be one of our own men, and so it turned out. He had cut open a bale and taken out several muffs and boas of first-rate sable. One set of ’em he gave to his sweetheart, who was seen wearing them in church on Sunday. I just went to her and said I was going to put a question to her, and warned her to speak the truth, as it would be worse for all parties concerned if she attempted to deceive me. I then asked her if she had got the muff and boa from Jim Croydon, the porter. She blushed scarlet, and admitted it at once, but said, poor thing, that she had no idea they had been stolen, and I believe her. This case occurred just after I had watched the milk-truck the other night for three hours, and found that the thief who had been helping himself to it every morning for some weeks past was the watchman at the station.”

“I fear there are a great many bad fellows amongst us,” said Tipps, shaking his head.

“You are quite mistaken,” replied the superintendent. “There were a good many bad fellows, but I flatter myself that there are very few now in proportion to the number of men on the line. We are constantly winnowing them out, purifying the ore, as it were, so that we are gradually getting rid of all the dross, and leaving nothing but sterling metal on the line. Why, Mr Tipps, you surely don’t expect that railways are to be exempted from black sheep any more than other large companies. Just look at the army and navy, and see what a lot of rascals have to be punished and drummed out of the service every now and then. Same everywhere. Why, when I consider that we employ over twenty thousand men and boys, and that these men and boys are tempted, more almost than any other class of people, by goods lying about constantly in large quantities in the open air, and in all sorts of lonely and out-of-the-way places, my surprise is that our bad men are so few. No doubt we shall always have one or two prowling about, and may occasionally alight on a nest of ’em, but we shall manage to keep ’em down—to winnow them out faster, perhaps, than they come in. I am just going about some little pieces of business of that sort now,” added Mr Sharp; putting on his hat. “Did you wish to speak with me about anything in particular, Mr Tipps?”

“Yes; I wished to ask you if that fat woman, Mrs —, what’s her name?”

“You mean Mrs Podge, I suppose?” suggested Sharp; “she who kicked her heels so vigorously at Langrye after the accident.”

“Ah! Mrs Podge—yes. Does she persist in her ridiculous claim for damages?”

“She does, having been urged to do so by some meddling friend; for I’m quite sure that she would never have thought of doing so herself, seeing that she received no damage at all beyond a fright. I’m going to pay her a visit to-day in reference to that very thing.”

“That’s all right; then I won’t detain you longer. Good-bye, Mr Sharp,” said Tipps, putting on his hat and quitting the office.

Not long afterwards, Mr Sharp knocked at the door of a small house in one of the suburbs of Clatterby, and was ushered into the presence of Mrs Podge. That amiable lady was seated by the fire knitting a stocking.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Podge,” said Mr Sharp, bowing and speaking in his blandest tones. “I hope I see you quite well?”

Mrs Podge, charmed with the stranger’s urbanity, wished him good afternoon, admitted that she was quite well, and begged him to be seated.

“Thank you, Mrs Podge,” said Mr Sharp, complying. “I have taken the liberty of calling in regard to a small matter of business—but pardon me,” he added, rising and shutting the door, “I inadvertently left the door open, which is quite inexcusable in me, considering your delicate state of health. I trust that—”

“My delicate state of health!” exclaimed Mrs Podge, who was as fat as a prize pig, and rather piqued herself on her good looks and vigour of body.

“Yes,” continued Mr Sharp, in a commiserating tone; “I have understood, that since the accident on the railway your—”

“Oh, as to that,” laughed Mrs Podge, “I’m not much the worse of—but, sir,” she said, becoming suddenly grave, “you said you had called on business?”

“I did. My business is to ask,” said Mr Sharp, with a very earnest glance of his penetrating eyes, “on what ground you claim compensation from the Grand National Trunk Railway?”

Instantly Mrs Podge’s colour changed. She became languid, and sighed.

“Oh, sir—damages—yes—my nerves! I did not indeed suffer much damage in the way of cuts or bruises, though there was a good piece of skin torn off my elbow, which I could show you if it were proper to—but my nerves received a terrible shock. They have not yet recovered. Indeed, your abrupt way of putting it has quite—thrown a—”

As Mrs Podge exhibited some symptoms of a hysterical nature at this point Mr Sharp assumed a very severe expression of countenance, and said—

“Now, Mrs Podge, do you really think it fair or just, to claim damages from a company, from whom you have absolutely received no damage?”

“But sir,” said Mrs Podge, recovering, “my nerves did receive damage.”

“I do not doubt it Mrs Podge, but we cannot compensate you for that. If you had been laid up, money could have repaid you for lost time, or, if your goods had been damaged, it might have compensated for that but money cannot restore shocked nerves. Did you require