I almost dropped my pipe as Holmes said the word ‘bomb’ and could only splutter, "What?"
Holmes looked almost gleeful and was rubbing his hands together in anticipation, saying, "Well, Watson. What better way of disposing of not only Tindall, but you and me also?"
Holmes’ thoughts now turned to the mechanics of the plot. "I think, Watson, I might invite Lestrade's colleagues from Special Branch to examine that particular item of the rolling stock before we join the train!"
Holmes reached for his silver pencil and notepad and quickly dashed off a telegram to Lestrade before ringing for Mrs Hudson.
The following day my nerves were in tatters. I had cleaned, checked and loaded my service revolver at least twice before I sat down for tea. Holmes had seemed quite calm, simply taking his pistol from his top drawer and dropping it into his coat pocket. During the afternoon Holmes had received a telegram from Lestrade. All was in place for the railway carriage to be thoroughly examined by Special Branch before we arrived and police would also be waiting for the train in Brighton.
In my worried state, I had failed to ask how we were to meet Tindall. "Holmes, where is Tindall now?"
Holmes was relaxing with his newspaper, seemingly totally unmoved by events. Taking out his pocket watch, he consulted it, saying, "I believe that he will arrive here in about ten minutes. He has been spirited out of Bow Street Police Station and is being transported in a closed carriage to the rear entrance of Baker Street."
"Here?" I gasped.
Holmes nodded, saying, "Where else would a person under our protection travel from, Watson?"
I could see the logic of what Holmes had said but it did not sit well with me. I felt that I was now even more of a target for Moriarty whilst travelling with the man.
At approximately six o'clock there was a slight knock at the door to our sitting room, followed a few moments later by Mrs Hudson, accompanied by William Tindall.
Holmes extended his hand to Tindall and invited him to sit. Tindall nodded in my direction and Holmes began to explain what was to happen, omitting to mention, I noticed, the possibility of there being a bomb on the train!
Tindall seemed eager to help and asked, "So, you think somebody will come to our compartment during the journey, Mr Holmes?"
Holmes replied, saying, "Yes, I believe that may be so." Holmes paused for a moment before adding, ominously, "You do realise, that should you attempt to escape, you would be signing your own death warrant?"
As I watched, Tindall nodded sombrely. Holmes gave a single nod in return before we gathered our coats and, together, we descended to the street below.
The journey to Victoria Station was uneventful but, as we drew up, the thin figure of Inspector Lestrade could be seen waiting for us at the entrance. He beckoned to Holmes and together they were to be seen huddled in conversation. Lestrade called over a constable who was carrying a small package which was shown to Holmes. It felt like ice-water was now flowing through my veins as I realised what the package might very well contain. When Holmes re-joined us, I raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. He, in return, nodded in confirmation. With this knowledge, I did not know whether to feel relief or even greater concern.
Lestrade accompanied us as far as the ticket barrier but no further. Holmes shook his hand and we walked towards the waiting train. Holmes soon found the first class carriage and our compartment. Inside, the seats were arranged facing each other. Three of them had small cards that read 'Reserved' placed above the seat number. Holmes and I sat at one side whilst Tindall sat opposite us, alone and in plain view.
A few minutes before the train was due to depart, there were still a few passengers milling around on the platform, together with railway staff urging them to board. It was then that I noticed a man who seemed to be loitering not far from our compartment. I gently nudged Holmes and inclined my head slightly. Holmes peered out of the window, and as we watched, the man touched his cap and was gone.
With a shrill blast from the guard's whistle and an answering one from the engine, we moved slowly out of the station. The evening was drawing in and the gas lamps on the platform had been lit. I always found it fascinating to travel through the city in the evenings, seeing the streets of London illuminated as so many tiny pearls threaded on a spiders web. As we travelled, we passed a stationary train which had halted at a signal. The train’s compartments appeared brightly lit against the growing darkness although to us, our carriage lighting seemed really quite dim.
It was after some twenty minutes into our journey that a guard came to our compartment to inspect our tickets. As he slid open the compartment door, the tension was intense. I felt frustrated that I could not both ready my service revolver and produce my ticket for inspection at the same time. However, it was a false alarm. The guard was simply doing his duty, clipping our tickets and then moving on, down the train.
I turned towards Holmes and I could see by his manner that he was becoming increasingly concerned. Seeing that Tindall was engaged in watching the darkening countryside roll by, Holmes said, in a quiet voice, "Something is not right, Watson. It is all too simple. I believe now that she had intended us to find the bomb in order to lower our guard... but why? We must be vigilant!"
I shook my head for I did not have an answer. Holmes sat back, his brows furrowed, deep in thought. I leant forwards and returned to looking out of the window but there was little enough to see. As I watched, the engine approached a signal with its semaphore arm raised and displaying a yellow light. As we passed it, I noticed that the train had begun to slow down. I turned to Holmes, asking, "What does that signal indicate, Holmes?"
Holmes replied, "I believe that it is called the 'distant' signal and is placed a little over five hundred and fifty yards before the next one, the 'home' signal. The yellow light is to warn the driver to proceed with caution as he may have to stop at the ‘home’ signal if it is showing red. The large distance between the pair of signals gives the train sufficient time to brake and stop safely."
As I watched, a slight curve in the railway line allowed me to see the red glow of the 'home' signal now some hundred or so yards ahead. Obeying the signal, the train gradually slowed to a stop, the engine coming to rest beside it. The signal box, with its row of huge levers which controlled the points and signals, was lit and was now directly opposite our compartment. One of the windows of the signal box had been slid open and a figure could be seen leaning out of it slightly.