Chapter 18: The Missing Telegraph Operator

After listening to the other party’s account, the first thought that sprang to Billy’s mind was: could this person be the young lady’s pen pal?

In this era, where letter writing was common, having a pen pal seemed quite normal.

However, for a pen pal to suddenly lose contact and cause such panic that one would seek out Holmes for help seemed unlikely.

It appeared this was not merely a simple pen pal relationship but one charged with deeper feelings.

Holmes did not immediately inquire but quietly awaited the young lady to continue.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself first. My name is Catherine Mett, and I am a telegraph operator. My friend is also a telegraph operator; he calls himself Henry Hughes. We met through telegraph communications and had never met in person before. We got along very well and quickly became close friends. We agreed to meet in London yesterday for a trip, but I did not see him. I inquired at the telegraph office, and they said he had already departed. Then I asked around near the train station where he was supposed to arrive, but found no trace of him. This morning, I read in the newspaper about your discovery of the young Mr. Gaskell who was thrown into the river,” Catherine said.

At this point, Miss Mett’s hands trembled uncontrollably, yet she spoke resolutely, “I want to ask you to find Henry. Whether he is dead or alive or has simply broken our agreement, I just want to find him. I know you are the best detective in all of Britain and even Europe. Asking you to look for an ordinary telegraph operator might be a waste, but I truly don’t know of any other reliable detective who can solve the case as quickly as you. What if he is really in danger?”

“But…” Miss Mett lowered her head in embarrassment, “I cannot offer much money. If you are unwilling, perhaps you could recommend a trustworthy detective.”

Billy hadn’t expected this case to involve telegraphy again. Had they truly become entangled with telegraph-related affairs recently?

From Catherine’s description, this seemed like an online romance. But what kind of trouble had Henry encountered that prevented him from arriving on time?

Perhaps some other matter had delayed his journey, and Catherine was simply worrying unnecessarily.

“No, no, no, money is not an issue. I only take cases that interest me, and this one does. You need only pay one pound as a fee,” Holmes responded promptly, his gray eyes observing Miss Mett with interest. “Could you tell me more about what you and Mr. Hughes talked about over the telegraph? Especially any personal information he shared, and details about which train he planned to take to London, whether he needed to transfer, and so forth.”

Miss Mett tried to recall, “I don’t know much about him. I only know he’s from Wiltshire, a telegraph operator in the small town of Cricklade. The town has a small population. He grew up there. His family includes only an older brother who is married. About a week ago, we agreed to visit London together. He had already requested leave and told me he needed to visit his brother in Surrey, so he had to leave early.”

“Did he contact you during the trip?”

“Yes. After he arrived in Surrey, he sent me a telegraph saying the train he was on would arrive at Waterloo Station at 10 a.m. yesterday. He told me to wait for him at Simpson’s Restaurant near Waterloo Bridge. But I waited until almost noon, and he never showed. I then went to Waterloo Station to inquire but got no news. I also sent messages to the Surrey telegraph station from which he had sent his earlier message, but they all said he had already departed for London.”

“Perhaps something happened en route. Miss Mett, don’t be anxious,” Holmes said as he stood and went to a cluttered table, rifling through newspapers to find the latest train schedules.

“There is only one train arriving from Surrey at 10 a.m. to London, coming from Southampton, passing through Guildford, the county town of Surrey, at 9 a.m. But before that, he would have to travel from Surreysis to Guildford. When you asked, did they say when Mr. Hughes left?”

“They said Henry departed the night before last, taking a public carriage to Guildford,” Miss Mett replied.

Holmes immediately set down the newspaper, walked to the coat rack, grabbed his overcoat, and quickly put it on. “We are leaving for Surrey right now. Billy, you come with us.”

At this, Billy rose upon seeing Holmes’ movement and hurriedly donned his coat.

Holmes had already put on his hat and taken his cane, and only then did Billy realize Holmes had not brought his detective tools.

He quickly fetched a small box from the table containing prepared luminol reagent, rulers, magnifying glasses, and other useful items.

The three boarded a hired carriage to Waterloo Station and purchased tickets for the next train to Guildford.

Before boarding, Holmes asked the station staff if there had been any train accidents today.

There were none, as expected by Billy, since any incident would have already caused quite a stir.

This ruled out the possibility of an accident on the train itself; the issue might have occurred on the way to Guildford.

Could it be that the public carriage Henry took had an accident en route?

With this suspicion, upon arriving in Guildford, they inquired about the driver of the public carriage that left last night for Guildford—the one Henry was most likely to have taken.

However, the driver had no recollection of a passenger named Hughes and no impression matching the description provided by Miss Mett.

According to Catherine, Henry said he would wear a gray striped tweed suit and a black bowler hat that day. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was clean-shaven.

Yet many men wore similar clothes, and collisions of such attire were quite common.

Because there was no clear image of Henry, Miss Mett’s vague description failed to jog the driver’s memory of any matching passenger.

Was it that Henry did not take that carriage, or did his appearance differ from what Catherine had learned?

The three did not linger in Guildford. They took another public carriage to Surrey’s town of Surreysis, where Henry’s older brother lived.

Upon their unexpected arrival and questioning, Mr. Hughes’ older brother—Big Hughes—displayed a strange expression that caught Billy’s attention.

As a former medical examiner, perhaps with some experience, Billy had sharper observation skills than most. The sudden visit clearly unsettled Big Hughes, who had no time to mask his emotions, and Billy was certain Miss Mett had noticed as well.

“Henry said he left for London to meet a friend the night before last. Has he not arrived yet? Maybe he had other matters and returned,” Big Hughes said.

“No. I asked the Cricklade telegraph office early this morning, and Henry did not return,” Catherine replied.

“Maybe he simply hasn’t arrived yet. After all, Wiltshire is not exactly close to Surrey,” Big Hughes said evasively.

Holmes suddenly spoke, “You are hiding something. This matter involves you. What did you have Mr. Hughes do?”

Billy saw Big Hughes’s body stiffen immediately. Holmes had hit the mark.

This was no surprise to Billy; Holmes always had a knack for pinpointing problems and confronting them directly.

“Even with makeup covering one eye, you have the mark of a slap on your face and dark circles under your eyes. Your clothes are unkempt and unpressed,” Holmes smiled. “But judging by the neatness of your home, the lady of the house must be quite tidy. So why are you so disheveled? Because you were caught by your wife having an affair. She slapped you hard and stopped caring about you. You could only promise your wife to end the affair, but you didn’t mean it. So, under her watchful eye, you wrote a letter to sever ties, then secretly persuaded your brother to send another letter and a carefully prepared gift.”

“Get out! Leave my house immediately!” an enraged Big Hughes shouted, driving the three out.

Left standing outside, the three exchanged glances. Holmes looked innocently at Billy. “I only told the truth about what he did. Why are they kicking us out?”

Billy thought to himself...

He was certain Holmes said that intentionally. As a detective, Holmes knew human psychology well; he was merely mocking Big Hughes.

“Holmes, if you say this, you must have other clues. Where does Big Hughes’s lover live?” Billy changed the subject.

“Sometimes, Billy, you really are insufferable,” Holmes muttered. “And call me Holmes, not Mr. Holmes. Finding his lover isn’t difficult, especially since Big Hughes is the town’s pastor. His every move draws attention.”

To Billy’s astonishment, a small boy ran up to Holmes and whispered, “I found out. Although the pastor uses an alias, his servant is known to us. From the post office, I learned the address—it’s next door in Rannymede.”

A bright smile spread across Holmes’s face as he pulled a shilling from his pocket and handed it to the boy.