Death in the Tunnel by Miles Burton Page B

obtained the knowledge on either of these points? He might, it is true, have guessed that, for some reason with which he was acquainted, Saxonby would want to secure a compartment to himself. But how can he have known that Saxonby had been successful? Or, if he gambled on the probability of this success, how did he know which compartment it was? He couldn’t have seen Saxonby through the window, for that would almost certainly be obscured by the fumes from the engine.”
    â€œYes, I’m with you there,” said Arnold. “I noticed that for myself, as I was coming through this morning.”
    â€œGood. Now we come to the man’s procedure. He provides himself with a pistol upon which he has engraved Saxonby’s initials. There’s nothing unreasonable about that. But, all the same, if the pistol wasn’t really Saxonby’s, it is peculiar that you should have found ammunition to fit it in his private filing cabinet.
    â€œWe needn’t, at present, enter into the question of motive. We don’t know enough about Saxonby and his affairs. We may find that he had a reasonable and sufficient motive for committing suicide. It is equally possible that we find that somebody had a reasonable and sufficient motive for killing him.
    â€œFinally, there is the disappearance of the ticket and the letter. Now, I’m bound to admit that the theory of a man boarding the train from the tunnel might be twisted to account for that.
    â€œSuppose this man, having shot Saxonby, did not leave the train again immediately. Suppose he unlocked the door leading into the corridor, passed through it, and locked it behind him. Suppose then that he hid in the lavatory until the train reached Stourford, and then got out? But he would need a ticket before he could leave the station. Foreseeing this necessity, he provided himself with Saxonby’s ticket.”
    â€œThat’s ingenious!” Arnold exclaimed. “I’ve always admired your imagination, as you know. And I’ve got a list of all the passengers who were travelling in that first-class coach.”
    â€œYou’ll probably find that very useful. This imaginary man of ours, having taken the ticket, may also have taken the letter, perhaps because its discovery might have given a clue to his own identity.
    â€œBut, in spite of what you choose to call the ingenuity of my arguments, I don’t like the theory of the man in the tunnel. It seems to me that the difficulties altogether outweigh the suggestion offered by the ticket. Quite frankly, I don’t believe that Saxonby was murdered. I believe that he shot himself. But, if you want a theory of how he might have been murdered, I think I can supply you with one which presents fewer difficulties than that of the man boarding the train in the tunnel.”
    The Inspector smiled. “I’d love to hear it,” he said.
    â€œThen so you shall. It is this. The murderer did not board the train in the tunnel. He left it there. That gets round the worst of the difficulties. Our man knew that Saxonby would be going home by the five o’clock from Cannon Street yesterday. No difficulty about that, for he did so nearly every Thursday. He may have been watching the train every Thursday for weeks, awaiting his opportunity. Yesterday he saw Saxonby installed in a carriage by himself, and realised that his opportunity had come.
    â€œHe had provided himself with a first-class ticket, and took a seat in another compartment of the coach. As soon as the train entered the tunnel, he went along the corridor, opened the door of Saxonby’s carriage, shot him, relocked the corridor door, and slipped out on to the line through the other door, the train having conveniently slowed down to allow him to do so.”
    â€œWell, that’s an alternative, certainly,” said Arnold thoughtfully. “It disposes of some of the difficulties, but it raises others. If the man was in the