by William Seil
‘Please forgive me, Miss Storm-Fleming, for my lack of attention. But Colonel Moriarty and I have been discussing...’
‘I am pleased to meet you, Colonel Moriarty. My name is Holly Storm-Fleming.’
‘Doctor Watson, if I have taken you from the company of this charming young lady, then I am the one who needs forgiving.’ He turned to Holmes, who was engaged in a conversation with the baron and baroness. ‘Perhaps the commodore would introduce me to his friends.’
‘I would be delighted. Colonel Moriarty. This is Baron Hans Von Stern and his wife, the Baroness.’
They exchanged greetings.
‘Baron, if I may ask, why are you and your wife taking this voyage?’
‘Books, Doctor Watson. I am a dealer in rare books. In fact, when we reach America, I plan to spend several weeks buying and selling. I have brought a trunk of fine old volumes with me, including some rare editions of the Bible.’
‘Then you are no doubt aware of the valuable book that is being transported to America on the Titanic,’ said Holmes.
‘And what book is that, Commodore?’
‘Why, the jewelled copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, of course. Surely you have heard about it?’
‘Oh yes, certainly, I believe I have read about it. A beautiful volume, but a little out of my price range, I’m afraid.’
‘Where in Germany are you from?’ Miss Storm-Fleming asked.
‘Munich — a beautiful city with wonderful people. Elisabeth and I entertain constantly. Have you visited our city?’
‘I regret to say that I have not. Is this your first trip to the United States?’
‘Yes, it is. We are very excited about it. When we arrive in New York, we are particularly looking forward to American theatre. I have heard that many of the productions are most lavish, filled with powerful arrangements of dance and song.’
‘There’s a great variety of theatre in New York,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘Everything from the large musical productions you have just described to quieter, more restrained plays — powerful in their own way.’
‘Perhaps we will have the time to sample several performances. You apparently have spent a good deal of time in New York theatres.’
‘Before I was married, I lived in New York and worked as an actress.’
‘Excellent! We would appreciate your guidance in selecting theatrical productions...’
We were interrupted by a team of waiters bringing the main course. I had just finished an excellent salad, consisting of cucumber, strips of salmon and a fine dressing. For my entrée, I selected lamb with mint sauce, accompanied by green peas and new potatoes. One of the waiters poured the bottle of Bordeaux I had ordered for Miss Storm-Fleming and myself.
I had been so involved in our dinner conversation that I failed fully to appreciate the magic of my surroundings. Diners, after several glasses of wine, were engaged in lively, demonstrative conversations. It had all the colour and elegance of one of London’s finest restaurants, combined with the adventure of a trans-Atlantic crossing.
In a recessed bay across the room, Mr J Bruce Ismay, owner of the White Star Line, sat at the head of a small table. He seemed to be enjoying himself — and why not? The Titanic’s first voyage was cause for great pride and celebration.
At the far end of our table, Miss Norton was charming Bishop — and with great success, I might add. The shy young officer was becoming quite talkative. I looked forward to Miss Norton’s account of their conversation later in the evening.
Brandon and the baron too had been having an involved conversation. The baron spoke with firm hand gestures, while Brandon sat with his forearm on the table, speaking in calm tones.
‘Your understanding of Germany needs improving, Mr Brandon,’ said the baron. ‘The lower classes have an excellent standard of living. While I hate to disagree with a fellow countryman, Marx’s philosophy is filled with flaws and is completely undeserving of all the attention it has received.’
Brandon’s face reddened. He pointed a finger at the baron and began to reply. But upon noting that he had become the centre of attention, he sat back quietly in his chair. ‘No great matter,’ he said with a smile. ‘I hope you will excuse my playing devil’s advocate, but I really enjoy a good debate. No offence taken, I hope.’
The baron paused and eyed Brandon suspiciously. He looked back at the baroness, who had put her hand on his shoulder. ‘No, Mr Brandon. Of course not. I too enjoy a good argument — sometimes to the point of getting carried away. I hope, as well, that I have not offended you.’
‘No harm done at all, except that our dinner is getting cold. Shall we begin?’
‘I agree. Lively conversation excites the appetite.’ The baron held up his wine glass, as if proposing a toast, and turned his attention to his meal.
Holmes and I exchanged glances. We had indeed assembled an interesting group of dining companions.
Our dinner party concluded without further incident. In fact, as everyone followed Captain Smith’s lead and rose from their chairs, there was a spirited exchange of smiles and handshakes. After so much food and wine, I yawned and thought for a moment about retiring to my cabin. But this was the RMS Titanic, and the night was still young.
Chapter Nine
THE LATE EVENING OF THURSDAY 11 APRIL 1912
Holmes puffed on his pipe as his mind sifted through the day’s events. I relaxed with a brandy, feeling more confident than Holmes that the situation on board was well under control. Indeed, we had encountered a surprising collection of passengers. Yet our inquiries thus far remained precautionary. There was no reason to believe that the plans were in danger.
Holmes and I had conversed a little with our dining companions before retiring to the smoking room. Miss Norton elected to remain on the dance floor for a while longer. Before we left — while young men waited patiently for an opportunity to dance with her — she told us of her conversation with Bishop. It seems that the young officer previously served aboard a German liner, the Deutschland. He claimed that he had relied on his early language training in English schools for a working knowledge of German. Yet, when Miss Norton asked him a question in German, his reply, also in German, seemed fluent.
‘I say, Holmes, Miss Norton was quite the focus of attention out on the dance floor tonight, don’t you think?’
Holmes, after a moment’s pause, looked away from the cloud of pipe smoke above his head.
‘What was that, Watson?’
‘I asked whether you noticed Miss Norton’s popularity on the dance floor?’
‘Oh, yes indeed. In fact, I was honoured — with all those young men around — that she danced the first dance with me.’
‘After all these years, Holmes, I did not know you could dance.’
‘A detective travelling incognito must know many things, Watson.’
Holmes puffed on his pipe once more, then turned to me and murmured, ‘In fact, I noticed that you too have not lost your touch.’
‘Yes, Miss Storm- Fleming is a good partner. It was a shame that she had to return to her cabin so early. I did not notice her drinking that much wine but apparently it made her very sleepy.’
‘Just as well, Watson. There’s work to be done. Did you notice that Brandon and the baron have rather strong, opposing political views. And do you not find it surprising that a man who spends his time gambling with wealthy passengers is also a devoted reader of Karl Marx. Perhaps he sees himself as a present-day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich, and so on...although somehow I doubt that his proceeds go to the poor.’
‘I say, Moriarty seems very pleasant. Not at all what I expected.’
‘He certainly is on his best behaviour — especially after the things he said about his brother’s death. Perhaps he’s turned over a new leaf.’
‘And the Futrelles? They seem harmless enough.’
‘Yes, Watson. But do not forget, Futrelle has a keen mind, and he is very observant. His curiosity could pose a th
reat to our work at some stage of the game.’
‘I have read his crime stories. They are certainly imaginative, but I have always considered them to be a trifle fanciful.’
‘Agreed, but he has a good eye for detail. Did you notice...’
All eyes in the smoking room had turned to the entrance, where Miss Norton stood. She was looking excitedly from table to table. Finally, she found Holmes and me seated at the far side of the room. Lifting the hem of her dress, she hurried across this male bastion, bumping into chairs as she moved towards our table.
‘My dear Miss Norton, what can be the matter?’ I said, as I pulled out a chair and invited her to sit.
‘My room, it has been entered! Everything is scattered about. And you will not believe this, but on the wall, in large red letters, someone has written the word Rache.
Holmes and I exchanged glances, but said nothing.
‘And the plans...?’ said Holmes. ‘Are they safe?’
‘Oh, yes, I checked them immediately. They’re still behind the panelling where I hid them. But someone clearly knows that I have them.’
Holmes did not appear to be fully satisfied with Miss Norton’s assurance that all was well.
‘Are you certain that you were alone in the cabin when you checked the plans?’
‘Absolutely certain. It is a small cabin. There is no place to hide.’
‘And the door...was it ajar?’
‘No, it was closed... Mr Holmes, why are you concerned? Are you saying the break-in was a trick to get me to reveal the location of the plans? You seem to be dwelling on that ruse you played on my mother long ago. I assure you, there was no one peeking through the porthole.’
‘We must consider all possibilities, Miss Norton. In any case, there is only one way to find out.’ Holmes rose from his chair. ‘And if the plans are still there, I suggest that we immediately move them to a safer place — one of the ship’s safes, for example.’
We followed Holmes’s lead in maintaining a brisk pace to Miss Norton’s cabin on C Deck. When we arrived at her door, she took the key from her bag and placed it in the lock. She started when she turned the key and it moved freely, without making a sound.
‘I’m sure I locked it,’ she said anxiously.
The door opened when she turned the knob. Inside, the cabin was in disarray, as she had described it. Clothing had been tossed out of the wardrobe and Miss Norton’s trunk. And, as she had said, the word Rache was written on the wall in large red letters. But there were some differences from the description she had given us on our way to the cabin. The door adjoining the cabin, which had been locked throughout the voyage, was now open. And high on the wall above the porthole, the loose section of moulding had been prised away, and the door to the small safe was ajar. Holmes placed a chair quickly below the opening and stepped up for a clear view of the interior.
‘Gone!’ he said. ‘The plans have been taken!’
‘This does not make sense... The door was closed and locked...’ Holmes jumped off the chair and darted into the next room. ‘I checked it before I left. The keyhole was covered. There is no way anyone could have seen me when I checked the plans.’
As she spoke, Miss Norton and I followed Holmes into the adjoining cabin. Inside, we found the dowager, bound and gagged in her bed. The old woman seemed frightened when I removed the scarf that had been tied over her eyes. But she began to relax as I assured her that we were there to help. Holmes untied her hands and feet.
‘It was terrible! Are they still here...could they still be around?’
‘No, madam. You are quite safe,’ Holmes said in a gentle and reassuring voice. ‘The door was open and we found you here.’
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked. I poured some brandy from my flask, and pressed the glass to her lips.
‘No, no, I am not hurt. Just a trifle shaken. Who were those people?’
‘We do not yet know,’ said Holmes. ‘You say “they”. How many of them were there?’
‘I am not really sure. There might have been only one. But I had the impression there were two. I was asleep, when suddenly I felt a man’s hand over my eyes and a cloth — that cloth — being stuffed into my mouth. They tied me up. There is little I can tell you beyond that.’
‘Did they speak? Could you tell us anything about their voices, or what they said?’
‘No, not really. Just a few simple phrases. Shortly after I was bound, I heard the words “got it”. Then, a few minutes later I heard someone say “sawdust”. I suppose that is how I gained the impression that there were two of them. The voices sounded different. But they did not sound at all familiar.’
‘“Sawdust”? What do you make of that?’
Holmes closed the door to Miss Norton’s cabin, revealing a small telescope-like device attached to the wood, about half-way down the door. The intruders, in their haste, had forgotten to take it with them.
‘A clever optical device.’ Holmes put his eye to the metallic object, then motioned for me to do the same. ‘You’ll notice, Watson, that the optical system allows you to see most of Miss Norton’s cabin. The opening on the other side of the door is so small, there is little likelihood that she could have spotted it.’
Holmes returned to the dowager, who was being comforted by Miss Norton. ‘Madam, I must ask you again, did you see or hear anything else that might help us to identify the intruders? This is of the utmost importance.’
The dowager put her shaking fingertips to her forehead, considering the question. At this moment, Holmes’s eyes widened and he reached forward to draw her hand towards him.
‘Look at this, Watson. Blood, around her fingers...and a strand of black hair caught on her fingernail... Madam, did you by any chance scratch the man who took hold of you?’
She reached out for a moment, as if re-enacting the ordeal, and then exclaimed, ‘Yes, yes I did! I scratched his face...right around the eyes! And I remember something else. He had a beard...maybe a moustache too.’
‘Excellent!’ Holmes said. ‘Madam, you have been a great help.’
‘This narrows it down considerably,’ I said. ‘How many black-haired, bearded men are there on board with a scratched face? Of course, it is a huge ship. We cannot very well examine the face of every bearded man on board. And what if he shaves off his beard?’
‘It’s not as bad as you think, old fellow. Did you notice the black smudges on the carpet? There were some in Miss Norton’s cabin too. That’s coal dust. I suggest we begin our work in the area of the engine room.’
‘Yes, Commodore, I believe you are right,’ I said. ‘But do you have any thoughts as to who the second man may be? And what about the word Rache written on the wall? This is very singular.’
‘Yes, very singular indeed.’
Holmes and I walked into Miss Norton’s cabin while Miss Norton stayed with the old woman. Holmes pulled his glass from his pocket and took a closer look at the large red lettering.
‘Interesting that they should use this word. What do you make of it, Watson? Do you suppose someone on board is aware of my identity?’
‘I think it is highly likely. Why else would they use a word with such a clear attachment to one of your cases?’
My readers may remember the case I called A Study in Scarlet. In it, the word Rache was written on a wall in blood. Rache is the German word for ‘revenge’.
‘Revenge?’ said Holmes. ‘Revenge against whom? Against Miss Norton? Against the British government? Against me?’
‘Moriarty!’ I exclaimed. ‘Perhaps Colonel Moriarty is seeking revenge for the death of his brother.’
‘That is certainly a possibility. It is also possible that someone is trying to convince us that Moriarty stole the plans. After all, what kind of thief chooses to advertise his identity by leaving such a clue?’
‘When we find the man with a scratched face, perhaps we will obtain some answers.’
‘Well, we must find him soon, Watson. The Titanic docks in New York in
six days. After that, our suspects will leave the ship and all will be lost.’
Chapter Ten
THE MORNING OF FRIDAY 12 APRIL 1912
‘Gentlemen, Miss Norton, I recognize the importance of these plans and the limited time you have to recover them. But please understand that I cannot have the passengers on this ship disturbed. You must conduct your investigation quietly, and involve as few people as possible.’
The captain, after many years in authority, had developed the ability to give orders in a diplomatic way. At sea, business leaders, government officials – any passenger on the ship – fell under his command. Yet, despite his tactful approach, he left no doubt that his orders must be obeyed.
‘But of course, Captain,’ said Holmes. ‘Rest assured, I have handled cases of far greater delicacy. Your passengers will not be disturbed.’
The four of us were walking casually along the boat deck towards the wireless room. Miss Norton had not yet sent a message to her superiors, announcing the loss of the plans. Despite the sunshine and the fresh, crisp sea air, she looked pale. This, her first major assignment, appeared to be heading towards a disastrous conclusion.
In the wireless room, both Phillips and Bride were hard at work – Phillips clicking away at the wireless key and Bride taking down messages.
‘Phillips, when you’ve finished that message, Miss Norton has an important message that must go out immediately,’ said the captain.
Phillips half nodded as he transmitted the final words printed on the sheet before him. Then he turned his chair and looked up at Miss Norton with a smile.
‘Miss Norton, what can I do for you?’ Phillips seemed disappointed when Miss Norton did not return his smile. In fact, she was most business-like.
‘I have a message to be delivered to a Mr Holmes at the Diogenes Club in London. I have written down the particulars.’ She handed Phillips a wireless form, on which she had written a brief message in pencil. Phillips looked at the message, glanced at the captain, and then returned his attention to Miss Norton.
