On a drizzly Saturday morning in London, the investigators gathered at Betty's Tea Room to share what they knew and plan their next moves. Over tea and tiny pots, they debated the mystery of the three identical Mehmet Makryats found dead at the Chelsea Arms Hotel, weighing rational explanations like forged documents and smuggling against something far more sinister. They identified three key threads to pull: the local police station, the Chelsea Arms Hotel, and Scotland Yard. With Christmas looming and Doktor Hermann Schneider already planning his departure to Zurich the following day, the group knew they had precious little time to act.
Maddie Wicks and Edmund Ashcombe made their way to the police station to speak with Sergeant Archibald Mason about the Stanley disappearance, while Hermann paced the pavement outside, muttering in German and scheming. Maddie charmed the desk officer into offering her tea while she waited, and when Sergeant Mason finally arrived, she explained that they were investigating on behalf of Professor Smith at the university. Mason informed them that the model train from the Stanley case was no longer in police custody — it had been passed on to the Train Spotters Association for examination, cleared of any electrical fault, and the association had been told they could keep it. The name of the man who had taken it was Arthur Butters.
With the police station yielding what it could, the group turned their attention to the Chelsea Arms Hotel, where the three Makryat murders had taken place. Christopher Smith and Maddie entered arm in arm, attempting to blend in as guests, but Christopher's wandering gaze made the maids uneasy, and the house detective, Mr. Bairstow, quickly cornered him. Maddie stepped in with considerable grace, explaining that they were investigators working for Professor Smith and that they had a connection to the Stanley case. Charmed by her manner, Bairstow shared details that had never made it into the newspapers: each of the three victims had been partially skinned — one across the torso, one across the arms, and one across the legs — and each had received a telegram in Paris, signed only with the letter "M," urgently summoning them to London. The room had been booked under the name M. Makryat, yet no one appeared to have slept in the beds before the bodies were discovered.
Back together on the street, the investigators pieced together a deeply unsettling theory. If the three victims had each been skinned of a different part of the body, and the real Makryat was nowhere to be found, perhaps the entity calling itself Makryat was not human at all — perhaps it was something that required human skin to walk among the living. Hermann, ever the most willing to entertain the fantastical, was convinced. Edmund remained skeptical but could not deny that something deeply strange was at work. Meanwhile, Hermann slipped away to send a telegram to Inspector Fleming at Scotland Yard, stating that he possessed information about the original Makryat and requesting a meeting on Wednesday the 27th of December — the earliest possible date given the Christmas holiday.
That evening, the group attended the annual London Train Spotters Dinner at the Westcliff Hotel, where Maddie had done her best to look appropriately academic, her hair pinned up and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. The function room was filled with about fifteen enthusiasts in ill-fitting suits, buzzing with conversation about locomotive wheel arrangements, the Orient Express, and the legendary speed of the Flying Scotsman. Arthur Butters was among them, and he spoke with evident sadness about Henry Stanley, describing him as a convivial member of the association for many years. When the subject of the model train arose, Butters revealed something remarkable: the set depicted the precise configuration of a real train that had crashed in 1897 on the run to Liverpool, with the same locomotive, the same tender, and the same carriages — and the original engine from that disaster had never been recovered.
After dessert, the group accompanied Butters back to his home to inspect the train. The large board — roughly six feet by four feet — leaned against the living room wall, and Butters set it up on the floor with its figure-eight track, ramps, and bridges. The model was extraordinary in its detail: tiny cast-metal passengers sat inside the carriages, and two figures could be seen inside the locomotive itself. While examining the underside of one of the carriages, Christopher discovered occult symbols scratched into the metal — clearly not part of the original manufacture. Beneath the board, a handkerchief embroidered with the initials "RA" had been tucked away, unnoticed by Butters, who had no idea how it had gotten there.
The party aligned the track from northwest to southeast and activated the train. For a moment, nothing happened — and then the wall exploded inward as a full-sized locomotive came grinding through it, belching steam and filling the room with the shriek of iron on iron. The tender followed, then the passenger carriages, and the ghost train ground to a halt in the middle of Butters' living room. Spectral passengers in 1890s clothing began to stream off the train, wandering in confusion, asking about Liverpool, demanding to know why there had been a delay. Butters stood frozen in absolute horror. Then, from the second carriage, a face appeared pressed against the glass — a man in 1920s clothes, eyes wide with terror, mouthing the word "help." It was Henry Stanley.
Maddie yanked a small Derringer from her purse and fired at the carriage window to shatter it and free Stanley, but the shot went wild and punched into the ceiling. Meanwhile, the ghostly passengers had surrounded Hermann, their expressions shifting from confused to something far darker as they drew him toward the train. His clothing transformed into 19th-century dress as he stepped aboard, and the faces of the passengers turned cold and blue, their hair matted and coarse, their eyes hollow. The train shuddered and began to move. As it gathered speed and the walls began to swallow it once more, Hermann's voice rang out from inside: "I told you there was a train! I told you, Edmund!". Forced into an immediate decision Maddie leapt aboard as well, while Christoper and Edmund chose discretion. And then the locomotive was gone, taking Hermann and Madded — and Henry Stanley — with it into the dark.