The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (10 page)

‘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 threat 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.’

T
HE
M
ORNING OF
F
RIDAY
12 A
PRIL
1912

‘G
entlemen, 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.

‘Yes, madam. Right away.’

Phillips was about to send the message, but he was interrupted by the imposing voice of the commodore. ‘One moment, Mr Phillips. Do you mind if I ask you a question?’

‘Go ahead, sir.’

‘Since last night, have you been asked to transmit any messages that you would judge to be unusual?’

Phillips chuckled. ‘Funny that you should ask that, sir. Bride and I had a laugh over this one. It came in early this morning.’

Phillips flipped through sent messages he had spiked, and ripped one from the centre.

‘Here it is.’ Phillips, a gregarious young man, clearly enjoyed this opportunity to entertain visitors. ‘Listen to this, it doesn’t make any sense: “Have met the Hot Russian Honey Bear and am ready to talk business. If I am detained, meet me on board by the pipe organ in the smoking room”.’

‘Pipe organ in the smoking room! That’s nonsense!’ said the captain. ‘There’s no pipe organ on this ship. There is no organ of any kind in any of the smoking rooms.’

‘Pray, may I see that message?’ said Holmes.

Holmes examined the wireless form carefully, first reading it in detail, then observing the paper more closely through his glass.

‘There is little I can tell from this,’ he said. ‘No handwriting, all typed. Good firm key strokes... possibly a man, but I am not sure. The addressee is a Mr Basil, for pick-up at the Marconi office in New York.’

‘And the sender?’ I asked.

‘Listed as a Mr Robert Smith. That’s undoubtedly a fictitious name, but we should check it against passenger and crew lists. Captain, would you make arrangements for that?’

‘Of course. Do you suspect that this has something to do with the theft?’

‘It is very possible...’ Holmes took a blank piece of paper from Phillips’s desk and scribbled out a brief message. ‘Now, Mr Phillips, would you add these words to Miss Norton’s message and send it immediately?’

Phillips seemed puzzled that his humorous story was taken so seriously. But he followed the commodore’s instructions.

‘I hope you don’t mind my adding a postscript to your message, Miss Norton, but I suspect our friend in London would want to know about this latest development.’

‘No, of course not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Commodore, gentlemen, I’m going to the message desk to see if I can get a description of our Mr Smith.’

‘Good. And with your permission, Captain, I have one more message to send.’ Holmes dashed out a brief note and handed it to Mr Phillips. ‘It is to an associate of my brother in the United States Navy. Perhaps he can help us to identify our Mr Basil.’

‘Very good, Commodore,’ said the captain. ‘I must leave you now for I have a ship to run... Incidentally, you wanted to accompany me on my daily inspection of the ship. We meet at 10 am on the bridge. Be there in full dress uniform. Oh, and Doctor Watson, you are invited too... Come as you are.’ An hour later, Holmes and I were on the bridge with Captain Smith. There were others there as well – the chief engineer, the purser, the assistant purser, the ship’s surgeon and the chief steward. All were in full dress uniform. The captain, wearing two medals on his dark coat, was an impressive figure, indeed.