‘What!’ Holmes asked in total shock. ‘Thirty thousand a year for which he doesn’t have to account!’
‘Yes!’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Finding spies, etcetera.’
‘Dammit, my dear Watson,’ exclaimed Holmes, absolutely stunned. ‘What would our Parliament have to say if presented with this sort of thing!’
He turned to Zviagin again and asked, ‘Can one security department in a provincial town spend that on political investigation?’
‘Some have more,’ said Zviagin coolly.
‘I’ve never heard of any such thing,’ said Holmes, now thoroughly embarrassed. ‘One would think half your population are political offenders. But … if that’s so, the term loses its meaning.’
‘Not entirely,’ Zviagin answered with a smile. ‘In any case, talking to a foreigner about this is a waste of time. You do things your way and we do things our way.’ He gave another deep sigh and lit a cigarette.
A subordinate appeared. ‘Your Excellency, the freight car arrived at the next station with half its cargo missing again,’ he reported. ‘Mitayeff is just back from there.’
Zviagin swore, ‘See for yourself. You take up one case and at the same time you are presented with a second … and a fifth … and a tenth.’
He looked at Sherlock Holmes in despair. ‘I’d give half my life for your assistance,’ he exclaimed and gave the famous detective a beseeching look.
The idea seemed to have lodged itself in his head and he began to beg Sherlock Holmes and me to stay for a while to put an end to these dreadful goings-on. ‘You can demand any payment,’ he exclaimed.
‘But we’re here only as tourists,’ countered Holmes.
‘That’s wonderful! I’ll show you the whole of the Baikal, the forests and bush land of the Varguzinsk taiga, and the penal servitude settlements. You’ll see much that’s interesting, things that you could never see otherwise when you travel by train. And what is more, we’ll split the reward half and half.’
Holmes turned to me, ‘Wouldn’t you say it’s worth thinking about, my dear Watson. What do you think?’
‘It’s certainly a very tempting offer,’ I answered.
‘But, of course, do stay on,’ Zviagin kept on insistently, encouraged by what my friend had said.
Holmes was considering something.
‘Well,’ the cavalry captain urged him.
‘It’s settled! I’m staying,’ answered Holmes.
‘Bravo!’ Zviagin exclaimed happily. ‘Hey there, waiter, let’s have a bottle of champagne and call a porter!’
Our luggage and other things were transferred out of our compartment and placed in the station waiting area, while we went back to our table on which champagne already foamed in tall flutes.
II
‘And so, I only ask that our real names should not be revealed to anyone,’ said Holmes, as he clinked glasses with Zviagin and me. ‘Let your people think we are ordinary detectives you have employed. We were looking for work on the railroad, we became accidentally acquainted and you made us a tempting offer.’
‘What about the railway and engineering senior staff?’ asked Zviagin.
‘Let them think we are your relations. We’ll see how we go.’
‘That’s why, in the absence of a hotel hereabouts, you can stay at my place, all right?’ Zviagin suggested.
‘Of course!’
Our initial conversation and any further talk about the case was now over. A second bottle was placed before us. After spending about an hour in the station buffet, we moved on to Zviagin’s place, put our things away and locked ourselves in with him in his study to plan what we would do.
‘How often do passenger trains pass through here?’ asked Holmes.
‘Twice a day,’ answered Zviagin.
‘And freight trains?’
Zviagin made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
‘When and how they please?’ asked Holmes.
‘Something like that,’ answered Zviagin.
‘Do you suspect anyone?’
‘Everyone!’ said Zviagin sharply.
‘What do you mean by everyone?’ asked Holmes in surprise.
‘It’s simply that I think everyone steals, starting with the bosses at the top, down to the signalman.’
‘If I understand the captain all right, my dear Watson, we will have to deal with half of Russia.’
‘At any rate, the whole of the railroad,’ broke in Zviagin angrily.
Having got some more information out of Zviagin, we took the maps and plans of the railway system going around Lake Baikal and beyond and went to our rooms.
I must have been long asleep while Holmes still pored over timetables and maps. And though he went to sleep after me, he was already at work when I woke up. His notebook, filled with a mass of notes, lay before him.
Seeing that I was awake, he nodded his head at me and said, ‘Get up, Watson. Today, we’re going for a little trip on a freight train.’
‘Now?’
‘No, we’ll spend the day examining the station and storerooms. In the evening, we’ll take a little trip beyond Lake Baikal and return tomorrow.’
III
It was an exhausting day. Sherlock Holmes examined the railway, warehouses, the railway station for freight trains, and drew the conclusion that the system was chaotic enough to make stealing mere child’s play. ‘It would be a miracle if there wasn’t any stealing,’ he said. ‘The first thing that hits you between the eyes is that none of the staff is in their appointed places. It’s a wonder that the station manager and district manager haven’t been stolen!’
‘Perhaps they are not worth stealing,’ I answered.
‘I quite agree, my dear Watson,’ said Holmes, laughing at this quip.
We took a nap after lunch and in the evening went to the railway station. The train conductors and the station staff in general didn’t know us yet, so we easily got the chief conductor of the freight train to let us ride first class round Lake Baikal for less than a rouble. Holmes deliberately rode as a passenger without a ticket, because a passenger without a ticket raised no suspicion.
At ten o’clock at night the train left. It was a dark night and the huge cliffs on our right added to the gloom. Vast Lake Baikal slept peacefully between its rocky shores. In the dark, they were nearly out of sight, except for the gleam of their dark steel reflection in the water.
The train climbed uphill, from time to time stopping at gloomy stations that looked like the lair of bandits, and diving in and out of tunnels.
We stood on one of the platforms at the rear of a carriage in the middle of the train, admiring the picture of a grim Siberian night. About three hours later we arrived at a small railway station. It was about 12.30 in the middle of the night.
Our legs were tired from standing or sitting still, so Sherlock Holmes suggested we stretch our legs along the station platform. Half the lights were out, probably for reasons of economy, and it was dark everywhere. We walked up and down waiting for the departure signal.
Suddenly, a loud male voice yelled in the darkness, ‘D’you hear, Burmistoff, send your locomotive to hell.’
‘I’m coming,’ answered a voice from the engine.
‘Come on, hurry, the vodka is waiting.’
‘But when will you let the train move on?’
‘When we’ve had enough to eat, that’s when I’ll let it go.’
The voices fell silent.
We went up to the locomotive and saw only the stoker inside.
‘When is the train departing?’ Holmes asked him.
‘Only after the engine driver has had his dinner,’ said the stoker imperturbably. ‘Didn’t you see him go off to dinner with the stationmaster?’