Every day the public opened their papers with the
conviction that so grotesque a mystery would at last be solved, but
week after week passed by, and a solution remained as far off as
ever. In broad daylight, upon a June afternoon in the most thickly
inhabited portion of England, a train with its occupants had
disappeared as completely as if some master of subtle chemistry had
volatilized it into gas. Indeed, among the various conjectures
which were put forward in the public Press, there were some which
seriously asserted that supernatural, or, at least, preternatural,
agencies had been at work, and that the deformed Monsieur Caratal
was probably a person who was better known under a less polite
name. Others fixed upon his swarthy companion as being the author
of the mischief, but what it was exactly which he had done could
never be clearly formulated in words.
Amongst the many suggestions put forward by various newspapers
or private individuals, there were one or two which were feasible
enough to attract the attention of the public. One which appeared
in The Times, over the signature of an amateur reasoner of some
celebrity at that date, attempted to deal with the matter in a
critical and semi-scientific manner.
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