Free The Baker Street Boys - The Case of the Disappearing Detective by Anthony Read Page B

was on a train at last, and he pressed his face against the window, staring out at the railway world sliding past. First they passed other trains steaming slowly into the station at the end of their journeys. Then the goods yard and the sidings, where small shunting engines huffed and puffed and pulled carriages and freight wagons. They steamed past the tall signal box, where Shiner could see men heaving at long levers to operate the signals above the track, and the “points” that moved whole sections of rail to switch trains from one line to another. For Shiner, this was heaven.
    As the train picked up speed, the sound of the wheels changed to a regular “clickety-click, clackety-clack”. Shiner discovered how to lower the window in the door by releasing the leather strap that held it up, and stuck his head out to try and see the engine. He was thrilled by the feel of the wind on his face, and the sight of the trailing plume of smoke and steam. Suddenly there was a loud “whoosh”, and the whole carriage shook as another train roared past in the opposite direction. Shiner let out a yelp of pain and fell back into the carriage, clapping one hand over his left eye.
    “What happened?” Gertie asked, rushing to his side. “Did it hit you?”
    “If it had,” Wiggins laughed, “it would have knocked his block clean off.”
    “Ow, ow! Don’t laugh – it hurts!” Shiner moaned.
    “Here, let’s have a look.” Wiggins gently pulled Shiner’s hand away, and peered into his eye. “You’ve got a speck of dirt in your eye from the engine.”
    “A speck? Blimey, it feels like a dirty great rock.”
    Wiggins pulled out his handkerchief, rolled one corner into a point and used it to fish out a tiny piece of black grit. “There you are,” he said, showing it to Shiner. “There’s your rock. You ain’t gonna go blind yet awhile. Next time, just be more careful, right?”
    He pointed to a sign painted over the door: “DO NOT LEAN OUT OF THE WINDOW” .
    Shiner, whose reading was not very good at the best of times, nodded miserably, clutching his sore eye, which was red and watering. There were obviously plenty of things he still had to learn about trains.
    Soon they had left the outskirts of London and were passing through open country. The last traces of the city’s fog vanished and the air was clear and fresh. Shiner and Sparrow had never seen green fields before, and were completely amazed by them. The biggest open spaces they knew were Regent’s Park and Hyde Park in London, but this was something very different. These fields seemed to go on for ever, with just an occasional farmhouse or village sitting quietly amid the peace of the countryside. The few people they saw were all at work, usually with giant carthorses pulling wagons or strange pieces of agricultural equipment, and not strolling at their leisure, like the people in the parks.
    When they saw herds of black and white cows and the flocks of woolly sheep, the two boys shrieked with delight. But Gertie stayed very quiet, gazing out of the window with a sad face.
    “What’s up, Gertie?” Wiggins asked, noticing a tear rolling down her cheek.
    “Reminds me of me dad,” she sniffed. “We used to live in the country when I was little.”
    Shiner and Sparrow stared at her in awe. Gertie had never said much about her past. Almost the only thing any of them knew about her was that her father was an Irishman, who’d had to go away.
    “In the country?” Sparrow asked. “Honest?”
    “Honest.”
    “What was it like?” Shiner asked. “Was it scary? All them animals?”
    Gertie laughed. “No,” she said. “There was lots of trees to climb, and rivers and lakes to swim in. It was smashin’.”
    “Did you live on a farm?”
    “No, in a caravan. We was always on the move.”
    The two younger boys were green with envy.
    “Why don’t you still live in a caravan, then?” Sparrow wanted to know. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would give up such