The Great Train Robery by Crichton, Michael

“I am an officer of the law, make way!” Barlow shouted

“Stop him!” Pierce screamed, allowing himself to become quite hysterical. “Stop him, he’s getting away!”

Glass fragments from the window fell on the floor, and Barlow and the child rolled on the ground in an uneven struggle that took rather longer to resolve itself than one might expect. The clerks and the dispatchers watched in considerable confusion.

No one noticed that Agar had turned his back on the commotion and picked the lock on the door to the office, trying several of his jangling ring of bettys until he found one that worked the mechanism. Nor did anyone notice when Agar then moved to the side wall cabinet, also fitted with a lock, which he also picked with one key after another until he found one that worked.

Three or four minutes passed before the young ruffian— who kept slipping from the hands of the redfaced constable— was finally caught by Pierce, who held him firmly. At last the constable gave the little villain a good boxing on the ears, and the lad ceased to struggle and handed up the purse he had stolen. He was carted away by the constable. Pierce dusted himself off, looked around the wreckage of the office, and apologized to the clerks and the dispatcher.

Then the other gentleman who had joined in the pursuit said, “I fear, sir, that you have missed your train.”

“By God, I have,” Pierce said. “Damn the little rascal.”

And the two gentlemen departed— the one thanking the other for helping corner the thief, and the other saying it was nothing— leaving the clerks to clean up the mess.

It was, Pierce later reflected, a nearly perfect jolly gaff.

Chapter 24

Hykey Doings

When Clean Willy Williams, the snakesman, arrived at Pierces house late in the afternoon of January 9, 1855, he found himself confronted by a very strange spectacle in the drawing room.

Pierce, wearing a red velvet smoking jacket, lounged in an easy chair, smoking a cigar, utterly relaxed, a stopwatch in his hands.

In contrast, Agar, in shirtsleeves, stood in the center of the room. Agar was bent into a kind of half-crouch; he was watching Pierce and panting slightly.

“Are you ready?” Pierce said.

Agar nodded.

“Go!” Pierce said, and flicked the stopwatch.

To Clean Willy’s amazement, Agar dashed across the room to the fireplace, where he began to jog in place, counting to himself, his lips moving, in a low whisper, “…seven …eight …nine ….”

“That’s it,” Pierce said. “Door!”

“Door!” Agar said and, in pantomime, turned the handle on an unseen door. He then took three steps to the right, and reached up to shoulder height, touching something in the air.

“Cabinet,” Pierce said.

“Cabinet…”

Now Agar fished two wax flats out of his pocket, and pretended to make an impression of a key. “Time?” he asked.

“Thirty-one,” Pierce said.

Agar proceeded to make a second impression, on a second set of flats, all the while counting to himself. “Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five….”

Again, he reached into the air, with both hands, as if closing something.

“Cabinet shut,” he said, and took three paces back across the room. “Door!”

“Fifty-four,” Pierce said.

“Steps!” Agar said, and ran in place once more, and then sprinted across the room to halt beside Pierces chair. “Done!” he cried.

Pierce looked at the watch and shook his head. “Sixty-nine.” He puffed on his cigar.

“Well,” Agar said, in a wounded tone, “it’s better than it was. What was the last time?”

“Your last time was seventy-three.”

“Well, it’s better—”

“—But not good enough. Maybe if you don’t close the cabinet. And don’t hang up the keys, either. Willy can do that.”

“Do what?” Willy said, watching.

“Open and close the cabinet,” Pierce said.

Agar went back to his starting position.

“Ready?” Pierce said.

“Ready,” Agar said.

Once again, this odd charade was repeated, with Agar sprinting across the room, jogging in place, pretending to open a door, taking three steps, making two wax impressions, taking three steps, closing a door, jogging in place, and then running across the room.

“Time?”

Pierce smiled. “Sixty-three,” he said

Agar grinned, gasping for breath.

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