William Seil - The Furt The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - The Titanic Tragedy

‘Yes, of course... Well, keep me informed, Captain. And give the commodore our complete support... By the way, how long have you known about this?’

‘I was told by British authorities just before our departure.’

‘Then proper protocol was followed. You have acted correctly, Captain. I appreciate your coming to me now.’

‘Thank you, Mr Ismay.’

The meeting with Mr Ismay was less difficult than I had expected. We received his cooperation, without having to share too much confidential information. We could proceed with confidence, knowing that we could act with the authority of the captain and the White Star Line.

It was getting late. All of us were hungry, but also very tired. The captain invited Holmes, Miss Norton and me to join us in his cabin for a light dinner. Before we left Mr Ismay’s cabin, he made a telephone call and placed an order for dinner for four.

Shortly after we arrived in the captain’s sitting room, the food arrived. The steward uncovered a large tray filled with hot and cold meat, along with fruit, vegetables and cheese. It was accompanied by warm bread and a pot of tea.

We each helped ourselves substantially — that is, except for Holmes, who nibbled at a little beef, then poured a cup of tea and placed some cheese on the saucer. Few words were exchanged as we ate. The captain and I took second helpings. Holmes stood quietly, sipping his tea and staring out of a porthole.

I was concluding my meal when there was a knock at the door.

‘Yes, Phillips. What is it?’ said the captain.

‘Excuse me, sir, but I have two important messages. One is for you, and the other is for the Commodore. I was about to look for him but I see that he is here.’

‘Thank you, Phillips.’ The captain took the envelopes and handed one to Holmes.

Phillips was about to leave, when he turned and fished a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

‘Oh, and one of the crewmen asked me to deliver this to you. Mr Murdoch sent it up from the hold.’

‘Mr Phillips, you are a wealth of information today,’ said the captain. ‘Have you and Bride been getting any rest?’

‘Some, sir. There are quite a lot of messages from the passengers. My finger is quite painful from tapping the key.’

‘See to it that you and your finger get some rest. The same goes for Mr Bride.’

‘Yes, sir. We will attempt to.’

Phillips left, after nodding to the rest of us, and adding an extra smile for Miss Norton.

The captain unfolded Murdoch’s note first.

‘It seems that Mr Murdoch and Miss Storm-Fleming have recovered one of her bullets. It was embedded in a wooden pallet that was propped up against a wall — just about where she said it would be. They are still looking for the other one.’

‘That is good news for Miss Storm-Fleming,’ I noted.

‘Indeed,’ said the captain, using a table knife to open the envelope of his wireless message.

‘This is from our London office,’ he said. ‘I did some checking of my own in relation to Miss Storm-Fleming. I asked our people at White Star to make some inquiries.’ Captain Smith studied the note. ‘Let us see...thirty-four years old...middle name Janet...no police record... periodic mentions in the social pages of the newspapers...a frequent international traveller. I am afraid this is not very helpful... What about your message, Mr Holmes? Does it shed any light on this matter?’

Holmes, who had returned to staring out of the porthole, paused for a moment, and then turned to rejoin the conversation. ‘No, I’m afraid not. Just a word of encouragement. He unfolded the note, which he had been holding in his hand, and began to read.

My dear Commodore,

I do not have to remind you how imperative it is that the documents in question be recovered immediately. We are all depending on the efforts of you and your companions. In my opinion, the matter could not be in better hands. Good luck!

Sincerely,

WC.

‘Holmes, who is this WC?’ I asked. ‘Does he work for your brother, Mycroft?’

‘More the other way around,’ he said. ‘Mycroft and I agreed on a few coded terms before I left, including the use of initials instead of names. This particular message is signed by Mr Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty.’

Chapter Fifteen

THE EARLY MORNING OF SATURDAY 13 APRIL 1912

Those of you who have read my work know that I am a man of few complaints. Indeed, I considered myself to be most fortunate to take part in the maiden voyage of this magnificent liner. But I must say that sea travel holds little appeal for me. I missed the comfort of my home in London and the company of my books. Perhaps even more, I missed long walks down London streets, watching people from all walks of life going about their daily routines. And, of course, there were the street urchins, those delightful little adventurers who were so full of energy and dreams, despite their poverty and limited prospects for the future.

I particularly remember the day I caught one of these enterprising tykes, all of eight years old, attempting to pick my pocket. I told him that I would not send him off to jail if he would accompany me to visit a friend. The friend in question was Inspector Wiggins of Scotland Yard, who was once himself a child of the streets. It just so happened that when the attempted theft occurred, I was on my way to have tea with the inspector.

We met at a small café along the Victoria Embankment. Wiggins was not in uniform, but the boy was quite skilled at identifying police officers. I thought for a moment that the young man was about to bolt. But a smile from Wiggins and the offer of a custard pastry encouraged him to give us a little more time from his busy day.

After tea, and second helpings of pastry, Wiggins took the boy for a walk along the Embankment. I do not know what was said during that conversation but I do know that the boy has stayed out of trouble. I know this because Wiggins looks in on him from time to time.

These things occurred to me as I stood in my cabin, preparing to meet Futrelle for breakfast. At Holmes’s suggestion, I had knocked on the writer’s door before retiring for the evening. He gladly accepted my invitation to assist in the investigation. His wife, after three full days of activity, had expressed a desire to sit quietly, reading. She willingly gave him permission to play the detective, provided he returned in time to dress for dinner.

Futrelle and I were to spend the day in the second- and third-class sections of the ship, making discreet inquiries. Our orders from Holmes were simply to ‘go everywhere, see everything, and overhear everyone’. Admittedly, our prospects for gleaning useful information were limited. But then, where better to hide the documents than a place far removed from the area where they were stolen? There was also Futrelle’s earlier sighting of Brandon unlocking a gate and entering the third-class section. The captain had said this was completely unauthorized and threatened to place Brandon under arrest. But at Holmes’s request, he agreed simply to assign a crew member to keep Brandon under observation.

Miss Norton’s assignment was to work with the captain and crew in conducting the investigation into Bishop’s death. That included the continued interrogation of the stoker, Strickley, who had thus far refused to divulge any information. He continued to insist that he had nothing to do with the break-in.

Holmes declined to discuss the details of how he planned to spend his day. But he did say that he had several lines of inquiry to follow involving our suspects. His most telling comment was that Miss Norton and I should not expect to see Commodore Winter until evening. From this I deduced that Holmes was about to abandon temporarily his disguise as the crusty commodore, and assume some new and less conspicuous identity.