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

‘Hans!’

‘Yes, my dear, I know. Gentlemen, Miss Norton, would you please step inside the dining room. We will decide in there what to do with you.’

The baron waved his gun and I decided that we had no choice but to comply. As I opened the door, I looked at Holmes. I could see that his keen mind was looking for some method of overcoming our adversaries. But the baron was a trained agent. I did not think it likely that he would make a mistake.

The interior of the restaurant, like the lounge, was dimly lit. We stepped inside and moved back as the Von Sterns entered the room. The baroness closed the door behind her.

Von Stern looked around the room and pointed to a chair that was standing along the wall.

‘My dear, would you remove the small cushion from that chair and bring it to me? I think it is best that we deal with this problem in a prompt manner. But I do not want to make too much noise.’

I looked around and saw that a champagne bucket was resting on a nearby trolley. I began to reach for it, planning to make a desperate move to knock the gun from the baron’s hand. Much to my surprise, Holmes signalled me to stop.

‘What goes on here?’ said the baron. ‘Doctor Watson, I must insist that you keep your hands up. There is no point to your foolish bravado. I would have shot you before you had even reached that bucket.’

‘No, no, Baron,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘I am quite sure I would have shot you first. But let us not argue over trifles. Please drop your gun.’

Miss Storm-Fleming emerged from behind a post, to the baron’s right. She was holding a silver revolver.

‘Miss Storm-Fleming, you realize, of course, that I am pointing my gun at your friends. Surely you do not want to see them die.’

‘You won’t shoot, Von Stern. The moment your gun fires I will kill both you and your wife. And in case you did not know, I too am a trained marksman.’

The baroness, who had the cushion in her hand, suddenly threw it across the room in Miss Storm-Fleming’s direction. As it went sailing by, the baron began to turn. Miss Storm-Fleming’s eyes remained fixed on the baron. She fired her gun and the baron’s body was jolted back by the impact. He reached for his chest, looked back to his wife and fell to the floor.

‘Miss Storm-Fleming!’ I exclaimed. ‘I am very glad you arrived, although I am uncertain as to what is happening.’

‘Did I not tell you to trust me, Doctor Watson?’

Holmes smiled at Miss Storm-Fleming and delivered a cordial salute. He walked over to the baron’s body, pushed it with his foot, bending over to retrieve the gun.

Miss Norton lowered her hands. ‘This is astounding,’ she said, mopping her brow on her sleeve.

The baroness stood in shocked silence. Suddenly, she broke down in tears and ran to the body of her husband.

‘Hans, Hans, please, you cannot die!’

The baroness was on her knees, pulling at her husband’s shoulder, trying to turn the body face upwards. She stopped abruptly to take a handkerchief from her sleeve. The movement seemed awkward and the handkerchief appeared to shine. Miss Storm-Fleming fired again. The baroness crumpled forward, falling on her husband’s body.

Miss Storm-Fleming walked over to the lifeless couple. Kneeling down on one knee, she examined the two bodies. After reassuring herself that the Von Sterns were no longer a threat, she removed a derringer from the baroness’s hand and the submarine plans from her coat. She then got back to her feet and walked towards Miss Norton.

When the two women were face to face, she lifted her arm and held the plans in front of her.

‘Here you are, Miss Norton. And in future, you might want to take better care of government property.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MIDNIGHT ON SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912

The Titanic was utterly motionless in the water. But it was far from silent. High above the boat deck the ship’s huge funnels were blowing off steam with a mighty roar.

Holmes, Miss Norton, Miss Storm-Fleming and I were making our way forward to the bridge, where we planned to tell Captain Smith the sad news that he had two more deaths to deal with. We were all reluctant to burden the captain with more problems, since we knew he would be fully occupied with the ship’s structural damage. At that point, we had no idea how serious the damage really was.

The other passengers and most of the crew were also in the dark. A number of people, awakened by the commotion, were braving the cold to see what all the fuss was about. Some were bundled up in their warmest clothing, while others were wearing coats over their pyjamas. They stood along the rail, shivering and staring out into the dark – but there were no answers to be found. When asked, the crew would speculate that the ship had lost a propeller blade, or that they had stopped to avoid nearby icebergs. No one really knew for sure.

But for me, at least, one big mystery had been solved. Miss Storm-Fleming was an agent of the American government. She had been assigned to protect the plans, and all the while keep her identity secret from her British counterparts. (Did Mycroft know?) I had many questions to ask her, but they would have to wait until after we had seen the captain. I restrained my curiosity, knowing there would be plenty of time to talk later on.

As for the Von Sterns, there were questions about them that would never be answered. Clearly, they were agents of the German government. And quite obviously, they did not steal the plans from Miss Norton’s cabin. But I had little doubt that they had broken into my cabin, and that of Colonel James Moriarty. And what of Moriarty? Was he our thief? If so, who was he working for? One thing was certain: Moriarty could not escape in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. We would soon be dealing with him.

We arrived at the bridge at an opportune time. Captain Smith was returning with Thomas Andrews, Chief Officer Wilde and Fourth Officer Boxhall. They had been inspecting the ship’s damage.

‘My apologies, Commodore, I do not have time for you at the moment!’ the captain said curtly as he opened the door to the bridge.

‘Captain, if you please, it is quite urgent.’

‘Sir, I am afraid you do not know the meaning of the word!’ He paused and his voice suddenly lowered to a calmer tone. ‘Very well, I suppose you all want to come...and Miss Storm-Fleming, too. Come with me, then.’

Andrews appeared to be both perplexed and impatient with the encounter. He had a look of urgency on his face.

Once inside, the captain spoke at once. ‘Mr Andrews, please get started on your calculations. Commodore, would you — and only you — step into my cabin. You have one minute.’

Holmes and the captain disappeared behind closed doors. Meanwhile, Andrews unrolled plans of the ship’s structure and studied them intently. From time to time, he would jot something down with a pencil or consult his slide rule. He worked furiously, but the resigned expression on his face told me he was merely confirming facts that he already knew.

Several other men were on the bridge, including Chief Officer Wilde, First Officer Murdoch, Fourth Officer Boxhall and Sixth Officer Moody. Murdoch was nervously looking over Andrews’s shoulder, until impatience caused him to walk over to the ship’s wheel. Gripping the wheel, he looked forward, out of the window, and appeared lost in thought. Wilde was to the rear of the bridge, consulting a White Star manual, while the other two officers spoke quietly to each other in the background.

In just over a minute, the captain and Holmes returned to the bridge. Much to my surprise, the captain appeared unaffected by their conversation. Equally to my surprise, there was a look of alarm in Holmes’s eyes.