The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by William Seil

  ‘You know, you are as stubborn as a friend of mine. You may have heard of him, a detective of the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes.’

  ‘Holmes... So, you’re that Doctor Watson. I have read a few of those stories. He must be an extraordinary fellow, that Mr Holmes.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose so. But I have to confess, I exaggerated his talents a little, to create a better story, you understand.’

  The commodore paused for a moment, considering this revelation. ‘Are you saying this Holmes was not the great detective you made him out to be?’

  ‘Oh, I’d say he was certainly a great detective but he had some flaws. For example, at times he was prone to exhibit over-confidence. And you know how I referred to him as a master of disguise? Well, he was not always in top form.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes to a cold stare.

  ‘Take that disguise you are wearing now. Did you really think that a beard, some hair dye and a disguised voice would fool an old friend?’

  The commodore’s features remained the same. But there was something familiar in his laugh that confirmed that I was once again in the company of my friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes.

  At that moment, the ship’s whistles, mounted on the two forward funnels, sounded the three traditional salutes of departure. The crowd cheered in excitement as the engines grew louder and steam billowed into the air. Our journey had begun.

  ‘My dear Watson! And for just how long did I manage to deceive you?’

  ‘Certainly in the lift. But it did not take long for me to doubt the naval officer after we started chatting on deck.’

  ‘It is a simple disguise, I grant you. But I do believe that no one on board has met me before. It should be good enough. And thank you for coming, Watson. Did Mycroft explain our little mission?’

  ‘In general terms,’ I said, wondering how I was going to break the news of Mrs Norton’s daughter. ‘He said we were to look after a young woman on board who is carrying some secret government documents.’

  ‘Indeed. She will be contacting me in my cabin after departure. In fact, we should go there now and await her arrival.’

  Holmes had been given cabin C30, which was in the same block of rooms as my own. There was a connecting door that opened to the porthole passage in my cabin. I was not surprised to find that the furnishings in our two cabins were similar.

  ‘Holmes, I fear I have a question to ask of you: how long has it been since you have heard from Irene Norton?’

  The question startled Holmes, but he answered without hesitation.

  ‘As you know, Watson, we have been corresponding for some time. The last letter I received was about six months ago. But why do you ask that?’

  My readers may recall Holmes’s relationship with Irene Adler from the adventure I called A Scandal in Bohemia. Holmes had long admired her as the one woman who had ever bettered him in a case. Several years after she married Godfrey Norton and left London, Holmes received a letter from her. It said how much she had enjoyed their little contest and hoped that there were no ill feelings. Holmes replied with a short note, assuring her that he too had found their adventure an interesting challenge, and wished her well. After a time, they began a regular, though not frequent correspondence.

  ‘Well, during my brief conversation with Mycroft before boarding the ship, he told me the name of the agent we will be expecting. The agent is Irene Norton’s daughter, Christine.’

  Holmes stared at me for a moment, then responded in casual tones. ‘That is a surprise. I would have thought she is too young for field work. She is in her early twenties, I believe. Well, her mother has a first-rate mind. If she inherited that, she will serve Mycroft and His Majesty’s government very well.’

  It was another quarter of an hour before we heard a knock on the door, and Holmes admitted Miss Christine Norton. She was an attractive young woman, dressed very properly in a brown dress and hat. On seeing Holmes, her eyes widened, as if meeting a member of the royal family on the streets of London.

  ‘Mr... Commodore Winter. We have never met, but...’

  ‘Won’t you come in, Miss Norton. You have your mother’s eyes and ears. Ears are generally quite distinctive among individuals, and often a family trait.’ He motioned for her to enter, and closed the door behind her.

  ‘Yes, you’re certainly Mr Holmes,’ she said, smiling and appearing more relaxed. ‘You are just as Mother described you...beneath that disguise, that is. And, of course, I feel I know you from reading Doctor Watson’s adventures.’

  ‘Allow me to introduce you to the author himself. Miss Norton, this is Doctor John Watson.’

  ‘Miss Norton, I am very pleased to meet you. Will you not sit down? I’ll call the steward and order something cold to drink. Will lemonade be suitable?’

  ‘Yes, yes, Watson,’ Holmes interrupted. ‘Lemonade will be just fine. Tell me, Miss Norton, what are the particulars of this little assignment my brother Mycroft has given you? He is a very secretive fellow and, I’m afraid, he has told me very little.’

  ‘Of course. But before I begin, I must remind both you and Doctor Watson that what you are about to hear is a matter of the highest national importance. I am providing you with full details of the mission, only because your brother knows your methods, and understands that you will only accept cases in which you are in full possession of the facts.’

  ‘Neither Doctor Watson nor I would repeat a word of this, Miss Norton. Please proceed.’

  ‘You are no doubt aware of the growing tensions that exist between His Majesty’s government and Germany.’

  ‘They would be difficult to ignore,’ I said. ‘Stories of German spies and infiltrators have been in all the newspapers recently.’

  ‘Those stories may be exciting to the public, but not altogether accurate. Nevertheless, they do tend to contribute to already strained relations between our two countries. The threat of war is very real.’

  As Miss Norton spoke, I sensed a change in the ship’s motion and heard some shouting through the porthole. I was tempted to remark on this extraordinary event, but Holmes, after glancing about for just a moment, continued to question Miss Norton.

  ‘We are familiar with international affairs, Miss Norton,’ Holmes said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘Please tell us about the documents you are taking to America.’

  ‘Yes, of course. The plans are for a new, prototype submarine called the Nautilus. As I am sure you know, our Navy is the best in the world. But there are some in the Admiralty who fear that we are falling behind in submarine engineering and building. There are fears that German advances in submarines could one day pose a serious threat to our fleet. Our submarines tend to be small vessels designed to protect the coast. The Nautilus would be 240 feet long, double-hulled and have a range of around 5,000 nautical miles. The future of large submarines in the British Navy may very well depend on this venture.’

  ‘I see. But you have not yet explained why you are carrying the plans to the United States. Are the Americans involved in the development of this vessel?’

  ‘Indirectly. The plans are nearly complete, but our engineers are having some difficulties with the engine design. We have to adapt certain German engineering methods, and we are hoping the Americans can offer some fresh ideas.’

  Holmes smiled, then rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. ‘Miss Norton, please explain why German design appears in British submarine plans. I suspect that there is something you are not telling us.’

  ‘You’re asking very difficult questions, Mr Holmes. I must decline to answer further.’

  ‘My dear Miss Norton, my brother told you to provide me with all the facts in this case. I cannot possibly protect these plans unless I am fully conversant with all details, and any potential threat to their safety.’

  ‘Very well. We have, for some time, had an agent in Russia who is providing us with German ship designs. You see, the Russians have begun to build a vast number of
ships to replace vessels lost during the Russian—Japanese war. Germany has arrangements to build many of those vessels. Our man in St Petersburg has infiltrated the Russian ship-building industry at a very high level. This has given him the opportunity to request German designs, and pass them to us. Some of the ideas used in the Nautilus have come to us from this agent.

  ‘Yes, I thought I detected a trace of a Russian accent during my discussions with Mr Reilly,’ said Holmes, tapping his fingers together, then turning to glance at me.

  Miss Norton’s eyes widened for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she settled back in her chair and offered a word of caution.

  ‘This agent, who is one of our best, would be in great danger if his identity were ever revealed.’

  ‘Whoever he is, his secret is safe with Doctor Watson and me. Now then, Miss Norton, do you have any reason to believe that any foreign power or potential adversary is aware of these plans, or the fact that you are carrying secret documents on this ship?’

  ‘None at all, Mr Holmes. But plans that have existed as long as those of the Nautilus are difficult to keep secret. And while I am fairly new to the secret service, it is always possible that someone could be tracking my whereabouts. We must remain cautious.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Holmes. ‘And if I am not mistaken, that knock at the door is the steward bringing our lemonade.’

  I opened the door and a steward walked in, holding a jug and glasses on a serving tray. He was an older, more relaxed man than the one who had shown me to my cabin.

  ‘The ship seems to have come to a stop, steward. Is there any trouble?’

  ‘Looks like you missed all the excitement, sir,’ the steward said, as he arranged the glasses on a table. ‘As we moved out, another liner that was docked nearby, the New York, started bobbing up and down. The Titanic must have quite a wake. Anyway, the New York broke free of its moorings, swung out and almost hit us. But the captain ordered full astern and a tugboat got a line on the other ship. Everything is quite in order now, but we will be delayed for a while.’

  After the steward left, Holmes handed glasses to Miss Norton and me, then held his own glass high. ‘My friends, here’s to a pleasant, successful voyage.’

  The cabin was warm, and I drank half my drink in one swallow.

  ‘And now, Watson, Miss Norton, I suggest that we take our glasses on deck to see what all the commotion is about. This may be the last excitement we see on this trip.’

  As we walked to the stairway, Miss Norton stopped suddenly and turned to Holmes. ‘The plans,’ she said, containing her excitement in a whisper. ‘Someone could have used all the activity on deck as a diversion to break into my cabin.’

  Holmes put his hand on her shoulder before she had a chance to hurry back through the hallway.

  ‘Steady, Miss Norton,’ he said with a reassuring smile. ‘Let us all walk back slowly, as though you were returning to fetch your shawl. We do not want to attract the attention of any of our fellow passengers. And besides, I doubt that the mishap with the New York was planned or foreseen by any foreign agents who may be on board.’

  Miss Norton took her cabin key from her bag and heeded Holmes’s advice. She walked calmly to cabin C26, directly opposite Holmes’s quarters, and opened the door. Her movements had been most casual. But once inside, she quickly placed a chair beside the porthole and climbed on top of it. With her keys, she prised away a small section of wooden moulding. Behind it was a keyhole, into which she placed a charm from her bracelet. This allowed her to swing back a metal door, revealing the interior of a small, shallow safe. A folded packet of papers came tumbling out.

  ‘Captain Smith arranged this personally before the voyage,’ Miss Norton noted, after stepping down to retrieve the plans. ‘My superiors thought it would be less obvious, and more secure, than storing them in the ship’s safe.’

  ‘Let us hope they are correct,’ said Holmes, who was now standing on top of the chair, inspecting the safe’s hinges and lock. ‘Incidentally, Miss Norton, I am sure you know the story of how I once tricked your mother into revealing the location of a photograph, just by creating the illusion that the building was on fire. Your mother ran directly to the photograph and pinpointed its location for me.’

  ‘As you may recall, Mrs Norton recovered very nicely from that mistake,’ I said with a chuckle. ‘She turned the tables in the end.’

  ‘She certainly did,’ Holmes said, suddenly lost in distant memories. ‘But the point I want to make is that the plans will only be safe if we remain cautious of our moves at all times. Do we understand each other, Miss Norton?’

  ‘Fully, Mr Holmes.’

  ‘Good. Now, this door over here — where does it lead?’

  ‘It communicates with the next cabin. It is occupied by a rich dowager, Mrs Applegate, who travels frequently on the White Star Line. Captain Smith booked her there, knowing she was no threat to the security of the plans.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Holmes.

  ‘Fine,’ Miss Norton said, looking to each of us with a wry smile. ‘Now, why should we not put these plans away so that you gentlemen might take me on a tour of the ship?’

  On deck, the spectacle was nearly over. The New York, now under the control of the tugs, was being manoeuvred towards the quayside. After more than an hour’s delay, the Titanic again moved towards the head of the ocean channel. Passengers who had stayed on deck to witness the near-collision and its aftermath were beginning to move below.

  Our self-guided tour of the ship whetted my appetite for the journey ahead. There were so many things to do, and comforts to enjoy. And, at every turn, I was awestruck by the fine construction of this elegant ship.

  Public rooms available to us first-class passengers included the dining saloon, reception room, restaurant, lounge, reading and writing room, smoking room, and the verandah cafés and palm courts. For recreation, travellers could exercise in the gymnasium, compete on the squash-racket court, go for a swim or relax in the Turkish and electric baths. Further services for passengers were provided by a large gentleman’s hairdresser’s, a darkroom for photographers, a laundry, a lending library and a telephone system.

  I was most impressed by the grand staircase in the forward section. More than sixty feet high and sixteen feet wide, it extended up to the boat deck, with large entrance halls at each level. It featured Louis XIV wrought-iron scroll work relieved by occasional touches of bronze. The oak panelling of the stairwell was illuminated by sunlight, entering through a large dome of iron and glass. On the uppermost landing there was a huge carved panel, with a clock at its centre. The female figures on the clock, I was told, depicted Honour and Glory, crowning Time.

  As Holmes, Miss Norton and I gazed up at this impressive sight, my attention was diverted by something of even greater beauty. A figure in light blue was descending the staircase. It was Miss Holly Storm-Fleming, the lady I had met on the train. She smiled warmly in my direction, as she managed each stair with the utmost care.

  ‘Doctor Watson! I was hoping I might meet you this afternoon. Is not this the most magnificent ship you have ever seen? As many times as I have crossed the Atlantic, I am still looking around as though it were my first time on an ocean liner.’

  ‘Indeed it is, Miss Storm-Fleming. And may I add, the surroundings suit you very well.’ I found myself speechless for a moment, until Miss Norton broke the silence by clearing her throat.

  ‘Forgive me, Miss Storm-Fleming, this is Miss Norton. I met Miss Norton on board a short time ago. Her parents are close friends of mine.’ I turned to Miss Norton. ‘Miss Storm-Fleming and I met on the boat train, and had a very pleasant conversation.’ The two women smiled and nodded to each other.

  ‘And this is Commodore Giles Winter of the Royal Navy. We met this afternoon in the lift.’

  ‘I am always pleased to meet a Navy man,’ Miss Storm-Fleming said, extending her hand. ‘If I have any technical questions about the ship, I will know who to see.’

  ‘Crui
se ships are a little out of my field, but I will certainly oblige if I can. Pleased to meet you, madam.’

  ‘Well, Doctor. I was just going down to my cabin to change for dinner.’

  ‘My friends and I were planning an early dinner in the restaurant. Would you care to join us?’

  ‘I would be delighted.’

  ‘Would five o’clock be suitable?’

  ‘I will meet you there at five. Until then, I hope you enjoy your tour of the ship.’

  Holmes watched Miss Storm-Fleming disappear down the stairway, and then turned to me with an amused expression. ‘Well, Watson, I see that yet another lady has fallen prey to your charms.’

  ‘Really, Holmes, I have only just met her. She is alone on board and looking for company.’

  ‘And I’m sure she will be a very charming dinner companion, old fellow. But be cautious, just in case her inquisitiveness strays in undesirable directions.’

  Chapter Four

  THE EVENING OF WEDNESDAY 10 APRIL 1912

  The restaurant offered first-class passengers smaller, more intimate surroundings than the dining saloon. Its fawn-coloured walnut panelling and rose carpet created an atmosphere that was most tasteful and relaxing.

  Its main attraction was convenience. The dining saloon had fixed hours for each meal — 8.30 to 10.30 for breakfast, 1 to 2.30 for luncheon and 6 to 7.30 for dinner. The restaurant remained open daily from 8 am to 11 pm. When travelling with Mr Sherlock Holmes, one could never count on eating regular meals at regular times.

  Miss Storm-Fleming looked most fetching in her evening gown, although its bright red colour attracted the attention of diners at nearby tables. Or perhaps it was the gleam of her gold necklace and cameo. Miss Norton wore a soft gown of rich blue. Both Holmes and I, of course, had dressed in formal attire for dinner.

  Dinner conversation was largely introductory, with each of us providing a little personal history, and our reasons for taking the voyage. I was both impressed and amused by Holmes’s totally fictitious account of Commodore Winter’s naval career. I made a mental note to suggest to Holmes that he take time from his beekeeping to try his hand at writing sea stories.