介绍:
Thrilling stories of the railway, by V.O. White church.
Cases from the private notebook of Thought Hassel, Book collector, railway enthusiast, and a gentleman of independent means
The affair of the German dispatch box
Thought Hassel often said the most daring case he ever undertook was that of the German dispatch box. Hassle was only halfway through breakfast at his house in Evington when Moiston Culteral , a under secretary for foreign affairs was rushed in. He was a tall thin man suffering from want of sleep.
"Yet since we met, "he began," and you have gained quite a reputation since college days."
"Ah, you've read my monograph on nerve culture and rational food." replied Hassel.
"No," said Cluteral . "I mean your reputation as a railway expert."
"Oh, railways, that’s just a hobby. Is that why you’ve come?"
" I want to consult you on a delicate matter, Hassel, what I am going to say is quite private."
"certainly."
"to cut matters short, a very important document is being stolen from our office. We have no proof, but I’ll certain that this document is in the hands of the German ambassador. Always diplomacy make action difficult. If we were demanded the surrender of this paper, we should be matter, I have no doubt, with a bland denial that it is in the ambassador’s possession. Our secret agents have told us the colonel Vuln Cregan, a messenger of German embassy, has been ordered to start at midday with dispatches to Berlin. It’s more than a clear fact, it’s a dead certainty that this document will be in his dispatches. Now if it gets into the possession of the German chancellery, there will be international trouble which might even land us into a continental war. If you can device any means of preventing the trend of this dispatch you will be renditing the country a real surface."
"How is he likely to carry the document?"
"In his dispatch box, together with other papers, and his journey will be guarded by the German secret police."
"My dear fellow, you've given me a hard nut to crack." Hassel lit a cigarette and smoked hard for a few minutes. Presently he asked Culteral if the dispatch box had a handle.
"Of course." replied the under secretary. "A leather handle, all the dispatch boxes of the German embassy are of the same pattern. It is about a foot long, eight inches broad and five inches deep with a handle on the top. A dark green box."
Hassel's face lit up. "You have one exactly like it?" he asked.
"Yes, at my office."
"Would the key be with the colonel?"
"Of course not. The ambassador here will lock it, and it would not be opened until it is in the hands of the chancellor in Berlin.
Hassel jumped to his feet." Culteral, there is just one plan that is occurred to me. It’s a desperate one and even if it succeeds it will land me in prison."
"In England?"
"Rather, I'm not gonna play any tricks on the continent. Now, suppose I'm in prison, what would happen?"
Culteral said quietly: "Oh, you'd escape."
"Very good, I should want help. Have you got a knowing fellow whom you trust, he must be a sharp chap mind."
"Yes, one of our private men, Bartlet."
"Good. There will be two hours before the continental train starts, while Bartlet to meet you and I will write out the instructions for you to give to him. The chances are terribly against us and I can only do my best. I should follow you to town by another train, what is this Vuln Cregan like?" Culteral described him.
"Good. Now, you must be off."
Three quarters of an hour later Hassel came out. He had put on a dark wig, black sirt suit and a straw hat. A clerical color completed the deception of a clergyman in Semi mufti. A military looking man, his fair mustache strongly waxed and carrying a dispatch box, walked down the platform beside the boat train. He selected a first class compartment. Two men followed him closely, but unobtrusively. One posted himself by the window and kept a steady lookout onto the platform. The guard had just put his whistle to his mouth, when a man came running down the platform. It was only a clergyman and the man at the window gave a smile. With a rush, the clergyman made for the compartment. Frantically he threw his bag, umbrella and papers into the carriage. The train had just begun to move.
"Ah, ooh, I thought I’d lost it." exclaim the intruder, taking off his hat and wiping perspiration from his forehead. "It was a close shave. Oh, thank you. Thank you." he added, as one of the man rather ungraciously picked up his bags and papers on the floor at the same time eyeing him closely. But Hassel, in his disguise, opened it to the guardians with an easy air, looking around within the three companions in such a naturally inquisitive manner as to thoroughly disarm them.
The colonel lit a cigar and said half apologetically "I hope you don't mind smoking?"
"Oh, not at all." returned the clergyman with an amiable smile.
Hassel was beginning as he writes his paper to take stock on his surroundings and the positions in which the three were seated. The immediately opposite sat the colonel Vuln Cregan, watchful and alert. Beside the colonel was the precious dispatch box. On the next seat, guarding the dispatch box on that side sat one of the secret police agents. While the other has placed himself next to Hassel and consequently, opposite the box, which was that thoroughly guarded at all points. The chances of carrying out this plan are very much against him. He had really hoped to secure the seat beside the box. After a bit, he looked out of the window, watching the country as they sped through it. Once, just as they were passing through the station, he lent his head out of the window. The three men exchanged glances. The colonel smiled and shook his head. Hassel sat down, took out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. Then he began feeling his waist coat pocket for a match. As it was apparent, the clergyman could find no matches, the colonel's politeness came to the front.
"Can I offer you a light, sir?"
"Oh, thanks." replied Hassel. Shifting to the edge of his seat," perhaps I may take one from your cigar?"
Every action that followed had been most carefully thought out. As he leaned over towards the German he held the cigarette with his first and second fingers of his right hand, with the end of it in his mouth. He kept his eyes fixed on the colonel's. Meanwhile his left hand Went out through the open window dropped over the seal, remained there for a moment, then came back and cross over the front of his body stylefully with him palm downwards. It was all over in a second before the Germans had time to grasp what was happening. He had his face close to the colonel's and he had taken a puff from the cigarette when suddenly his left hand swooped down on the handle of the dispatch box, and his right hand flew forward into the colonel's face. And before the Colonel could recover or either of the others take action, Hassel had tossed the dispatch box out of the window. They were on him at once. He sprung up, back to the window, and made a little struggle, but the colonel in front of the others had him onto the seat in no time. Meanwhile the third man had pulled the electric safety signal and looked back along the line.
"I can see it." he cried triumphantly. The whole affair taken place so suddenly, that the train began to pull up within fifteen or twenty seconds. The guard was out of his van in an instant and running along a side of the train.
"What is it?" the agent backed him to come up heads this way out of the windows. And in this matter it was private. So the guard climbed onto the foot board.
"It is the dispatch box has been thrown out off the train" whispered the agent. "We have some man here, but we must get the case. It is only a little way back."
"Very good, sir." replied the guard quietly, waving an arm towards the rear of the train. The train began to reverse, and very soon a small dark Object could be seen alongside the rails. As they drew close the guard held out his hand, motionlessly the train stopped and he jumped off.
"Is this it?"
"Yes." explained the colonel, "Thank you, guard. Here is something for your trouble. We’ll hand the fellow to the police at Dove Haven.
Colonel Vuln Cregan lit another cigar as the train went on and looked at Hassel. “I’m afraid you didn’t quite succeed, sir. Who put you up to this? ”
“I accept the entire responsibility,” replied Hassel. “failure and all. I have only one favor to ask. Will you allow me to eat my lunch?”
“Oh, certainly.” replied the colonel. “I should like you to travel all the way with us, but international law prevents that.”
Hassel bowed and the next moment was pleasantly consuming plasment biscuit and drinking sterilized milk. “Try eat diet macaroni and Dutch cheese” were his last words to the colonel. “They both help to build up the gray brain material, useful in your position.”
When the train arrived at Dove Haven, Hassel was marched to the station, the super intendant looked at him curiously but nothing was said. It was strange however that he was not locked up in an ordinary cell but in a small room. It was also strange that the bar of the window was loose and that no one was about when he dropped out of it that night. The German police when they heard about it smiled. Diplomatic affairs are peculiar and they knew this particular criminal would never be caught. Meanwhile the colonel journeyed onto Berlin with a full of assurance in his mind that the papers in the dispatch box were intact. He handed the letter over to the chancellor who as a result of a cipher telegram was eagerly expecting it. Somehow his key did not fit the lock.
“Colonel, this is not one of our boxes, surely.” The colonel turned pale, snitching up a knife the chancellor forced open the box with a cry of dismay issuing from his lips as he drew out the contents. The current number of punch in which he figured in the cartoon. And a copy of the standard, containing an article on foreign policy that being carefully marked. It is needless to record the in suing conversation between the chancellor and colonel Vuln Cregan. At about the time it was taking place the German ambassador in London received by post the original dispatch box. And its contents minus the incriminating document, which now reposed safely in the foreign office.
“How is it done?” said Hassel afterwards when telling the story to a companion.
“Oh, it was a pure trick, no matter hardly expected to bring it off. Fortunately, Bartlet followed out all my instructions to the letter. I told him to wear an infanous cloak, to provide himself with a duplic dispatch box, very strong fishing twine, a snap hook and a light walking stick with a fork of wire stuck in the end of it. Now the only difficulty about his job was the presence of other travelers in his compartment, which had to be the compartment behind mine. But as it happened, there were only two maiden ladies who simply thought a medal on fresh air. The cloak served for a double purpose: to hide the box and to conceal his movements from the occupancy of his carriage when the time for action came. I was to let him know which side of the train was the sphere of action by putting my head out as we run through east wood. He would then get to work accordingly. He had the snap hook tied to the end of the fishing line .by leaning out of the window and the slinging this hook on the fork of the walking stick he was able to reach along the carriage and slipped the hook over the handle outside my door where it’s hung by its cord. He then dropped the stick and held the cord loosely in his right hand, they’re slack and ready to run out. This you would observe kept the hook hanging on my handle. With his left hand, he drew the dispatch box from under his cloak and held it outside the carriage and ready to drop it instantly. （未贴完）
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