The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (5 page)

‘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.’

‘Cruise 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.’

T
HE
E
VENING OF
W
EDNESDAY
10 A
PRIL
1912

T
he 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.

Miss Norton too showed some creativity in avoiding the subjects of her government job and the prominent role her mother had once played in one of Holmes’s adventures. Instead, she spoke of her education, and her plans to find adventure in life before settling down. I was able to remain truthful on most counts, except for my reasons for being on board.

‘Tell me, Doctor Watson, are you writing any more stories about your friend, Mr Holmes? I believe I’ve read nearly all of them, and look forward to future adventures.’

‘In answer to your question, Miss Storm-Fleming, since Holmes retired, I have done little writing about his adventures. From time to time I dig out my notes to a past case and prepare a manuscript. But these days, my time is mostly occupied in writing historical novels.’

‘Historical novels. How interesting,’ Miss Storm-Fleming said. ‘In what period?’

‘My latest effort takes place during the Boer War.’

‘I would like to read it when it is finished.’

‘I will send you a copy. Meanwhile, please remind me to give you one of my more recent works before we leave the ship.’

‘That would be most appreciated. And you will inscribe it, of course.’

‘If you wish.’

She smiled, confirming her request, and turned her attention to Holmes. ‘Tell me, Commodore, have you read any of Doctor Watson’s work?’

‘Oh, I do quite a lot of reading when I am out at sea. I know I have read that one about the
Beast of the Baskervilles
. Some of the shorter stories too.’

‘What did you think of them?’

‘Well-written little yarns. Quite up to the mark.’

‘As a navy man, there were a couple of stories, I imagine, that were especially interesting to you. Let me think...’ Miss Storm-Fleming put her hand to her forehead. ‘You may have to help me Doctor Watson... There was
The Naval Treaty
, about a stolen government document, and just a few years ago there was
The Bruce-Partington Plans
, about some stolen submarine drawings. Did you read either of those?’

‘I cannot admit that I did. But I must ensure that I do before I make my next voyage.’

Miss Storm-Fleming’s eyes were fixed on Holmes. Fortunately, he had the makings of a great poker player. The mention of submarine plans did not cause him to change his expression. I wondered whether Miss Norton and I had displayed a similar lack of interest.

When the dessert tray came by, Miss Norton and I pointed our selections out to the waiter. Holmes and Miss Storm-Fleming declined the offer of sweets and ordered coffee. We continued our conversation as the
Titanic
slowly made its way to Cherbourg, France, where it was due to pick up 200 to 300 additional passengers. After we had finished our dessert, Holmes pushed his chair back from the table and looked at his watch. ‘It is half past six. We appear to be dropping anchor. Would anyone care to go on deck and take a look? It is too dark to get much of a view of the coast, but we will be able to see the lights of the city.’

As we rose, Miss Storm-Fleming pulled her watch from her handbag and double-checked the time. She then excused herself, saying she would prefer to go back to her cabin and rest.

‘It has been a wonderful evening,’ Miss Storm-Fleming said. ‘I have enjoyed meeting all of you... I expect we will meet later, Doctor Watson. And please do not forget that book you promised me.’

We wished her a pleasant evening and made our way to the boat
deck. This afforded us a high vantage point for watching the arrival of new passengers.

The sun had set and the faint afterglow of daylight was fading. The
Titanic
was fully illuminated with electric lights, and must have made an impressive sight from shore.

Cherbourg was a deep-water port protected by a long sea-wall. One of its most charming features was a walkway that jutted out into the harbour, leading to a small lighthouse. Unfortunately, the harbour did not have docking facilities to handle ships as large as the
Titanic
. Instead, two tenders were used to shuttle passengers to the ship.
Nomadic
, the larger of the two vessels, carried first- and second-class passengers. Third-class passengers were transported on the
Traffic
.

‘An interesting lady, your friend Miss Storm-Fleming,’ Holmes said, as we stood at the rail. ‘I hope that she does not turn out to be an agent of a foreign power.’

In my mind, I knew that Holmes was right to raise the question. But in my heart, I resented his suggestion that Miss Storm-Fleming might be guilty of such a crime. ‘I will have to admit, that reference to submarine plans was a bit suspicious. But it could simply have been a casual comment. We were discussing your adventures.’

‘Remember,’ Miss Norton said, ‘that it was Miss Storm-Fleming who brought up the subject of your articles to begin with.’

‘She was simply asking me about my work. That is a perfectly reasonable topic for conversation, especially since she is obviously familiar with my writings on Holmes’s adventures.’

‘Her voice is clearly American,’ Holmes said. ‘I pride myself in identifying speech mannerisms. While she has an urbane quality — no doubt from her extensive travels — I found no strain of German or any other foreign tongue. She could, of course, be in the pay of some foreign power...’

‘All I’m suggesting, Holmes, is that we be cautious, but give the lady a chance. After all, there is no evidence as yet.’

‘And then there’s the matter of her watch,’ Holmes continued.

‘What about her watch?’

‘Everything she wears — her dress, her jewelry — suggests elegance. That is, except for her watch. It is of a simple design—it is not even a lady’s watch. It is, however, the product of a Swiss company that is known for making highly accurate timepieces. Now, why should a lady of leisure choose such a watch?’

‘Perhaps it belonged to her late husband,’ I suggested.

‘That’s entirely possible. Or perhaps she has a fear of missing trains. In any case, it is unusual and therefore well worth noting.’

We looked below as passengers began to leave the
Nomadic
and make their way up the ramp to board the
Titanic
. After having been delayed by the
Titanic
’s late arrival, the new passengers appeared as though they might be tired, hungry and a little bit impatient.

‘Stay here and make sure that every bit of my baggage makes its way to my quarters,’ requested one middle-aged woman, as she led an entourage of servants across the ramp.

‘It appears that it will be some time before her porter gets his dinner,’ I told Holmes, with a sympathetic chuckle.

Holmes did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the deck of the
Nomadic
. ‘Watson, the man in black on the deck of the tender...do you recognize him?’

I looked into the yellow glow of the
Nomadic
’s deck and, after a short time, was able to pick out the man Holmes had described. ‘I am unable to see him at all well. Do you know who he is?’

Holmes remained silent until the man made his way on to the ramp. ‘Do you see him now, Watson? Do you not recognize him? It’s Moriarty!’

For a moment I was concerned that my dear friend, Holmes, might
be losing his mind. Miss Norton, also amazed by what she had heard, nearly dropped her bag over the side.

‘Holmes, Professor Moriarty has been dead for more than twenty years!’ I exclaimed. ‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about?’

‘Not Professor James Moriarty, Watson. The man coming on board is Colonel James Moriarty — the late professor’s brother.’

I took another look at the figure in black. He assumed an erect military posture as he walked across the ramp with the rest of the crowd. From time to time, his head shifted up and down, and from side to side, as he examined the ship and his fellow passengers.

‘I do believe you are right, Holmes. It is indeed the colonel. What the devil is he doing here?’

‘Two brothers named James?’ Miss Norton asked, in somewhat sceptical tones.

‘Yes,’ said Holmes. ‘It shows a sad lack of imagination on the part of their parents. I never was able to deduce how the professor turned out to be so brilliant.’

‘Holmes, do you suppose he still blames you for his brother’s death. I recall the letters he wrote to the press after the Reichenbach Falls affair. They were a distortion of the facts.’

‘I do not know, Watson. As far as I have been able to determine, forgiveness has never been a Moriarty family trait. In any case, it appears that my modest disguise is about to be put to the test.’

T
HE
L
ATE
E
VENING OF
W
EDNESDAY
10 A
PRIL
1912

T
he
Titanic
had left Cherbourg shortly after eight o’clock. Its next stop would be Queenstown, in southern Ireland, late the next morning. After that, our trans-Atlantic crossing would begin.

Miss Norton returned to her cabin, while Holmes and I walked down to the smoking room on promenade deck A. It was a pleasant room in which to end the evening. The walls were panelled in mahogany, with mother-of-pearl inlay. There were stained-glass windows along most of the outer wall, and a large, open fireplace, with a painting hanging over the mantel. A cloud of smoke filled the room, mingling the aroma of various fine blends of tobacco. While women were not strictly forbidden from entering the smoking room, it was respected by the ladies as a retreat for gentlemen.

The room was crowded with men, still in evening attire, sipping drinks and engaged in casual conversation. Some were not so casual, as they sat around tables, intently looking at the playing cards that were fanned out in their hands. At least one of the games appeared to be for high stakes.