pocket of his trousers and pulled out a wrinkled business card. ‘This is my father’s card, from where he works. If you contact him, he will give me the message. He reads your books too.’
‘Cox & Co., a very fine bank. I go there myself... Let us see, what have you here?’ I took the book he was holding and walked over to the dressing table.
‘Twice, I’m on my third time now.’
I opened the book to the title page and began to write. ‘Three times! I am flattered. How do you find time to play with your friends, with all this reading?’
‘On this trip, he has been standing by the rail most of the time, watching the children play down on the third-class deck,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming.
‘A little bored, Tommy?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, me too sometimes.’ After completing the inscription, I returned the book to him. ‘There you are, young man, and I will let you know if Mr Holmes needs any help.’
‘Why don’t you run along now, Tommy,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘I need to speak to Doctor Watson. And don’t forget to say, “Thank you”.’
‘Thank you, very much, Doctor Watson.’
‘My pleasure, Tommy.’
The boy turned and walked towards the door.
‘Oh, Tommy, before you leave, what is the number on the outside of my cabin door...without looking, now?’
‘Why, C28, sir.’
‘Excellent! You are a very observant young man. You will make a fine detective.’
The boy grinned from ear to ear, grasped his book tightly and skipped out of the door.
‘Thank you, Miss Storm-Fleming, for that introduction. I approve of your taste in friends. Shall we walk towards the hall?’
‘I made friends with you, did I not?’ She smiled, but her face lacked the energy and spirit that I had seen so often over the past few days. I could tell that at this particular moment, she was very much in need of a friend.
‘I understand that you and Murdoch found one of the rounds fired from your gun. Did you have any luck in finding the other?’
‘No, but they are still looking.’
‘Do not be concerned — I think the captain believes you. He is suspicious, though, that you may not be telling him everything.’
‘And what is your opinion, Doctor Watson?’
‘I must confess, I sense there is something more.’
Miss Storm-Fleming lowered her eyes and then folded her arms, as if feeling a chill in the air. After a moment’s contemplation she began walking faster along the hall. ‘If there is something more, do you trust me enough to remain my friend?’
‘Indeed, Miss Storm-Fleming. I would also like to think that you trust me enough to confide in me.’
‘And is there anything
We turned to each other and smiled.
‘Whatever your deep, dark secret, take care,’ I said. ‘You have had more than enough adventure for one voyage. Try to be a typical passenger, for a change.’
‘Why, Doctor Watson, I would never dream of being typical,’ she replied, as she hastened her step away from me.
Then she was gone, leaving only the scent of perfume and the warmth of her smile.
THE MORNING OF SATURDAY 13 APRIL 1912
Oatmeal porridge, vegetable stew, fried tripe and onions, Swedish bread and marmalade and, of course, tea. The third-class dining room offered a hearty breakfast and delightful conversation. Futrelle and I had seated ourselves at a long table, next to a Scandinavian family. Jan and Lise Svensson, their son and two daughters were on their way to Massachusetts, where Jan had a position assured on his brother Sven’s fishing boat. Both Jan and Lise were fluent in English and their children were rapidly developing a basic knowledge of the language. In their early thirties, the couple had mixed feelings about leaving their home and loved ones. But Sven’s letters had gone into detail about how living in America had offered opportunities for his own children, and how happy his family was. And, above all else, Jan and Lise wanted a better life for their children.
The Svenssons said they were finding their first trans-Atlantic crossing to be the thrill of a lifetime. They occupied a four-berth cabin at the ship’s stern on F Deck. This afforded them easy access to the dining room, where they also ate lunch and dinner. The dining room was bright and cheerful, with white enamelled walls. The long tables were tastefully decorated and the wooden chairs, though uncushioned, were quite comfortable.
Futrelle told the Svenssons that he was preparing a newspaper article on the
Mrs Svensson said the General Room was comfortable, though not well equipped with recreational opportunities for the children. Fortunately, the Svensson children had found playmates and, for the most part, they had improvised games and activities to occupy their time. She noted, however, that the General Room did have a fine piano, and some of the passengers whiled away the hours playing some enjoyable tunes.
Mr Svensson said he had spent little time in the two bars but he did enjoy an occasional trip to the smoking room, where he could light up his pipe and play a recreational game of cards with the other men. When he grew tired of cards, he tried chess, draughts and dominoes. Most of all, he enjoyed meeting other passengers, and discovering where they had been and where they were going.
Mrs Svensson said she had been concerned about the hundreds of men who, travelling alone, were berthed in the forward end of the ship. Some were in six- or eight-berth cabins, while others, mostly immigrants, shared dormitory-like areas on G Deck. While families and single women were berthed far away, in the aft end of the ship, all steerage passengers shared decks and public rooms during the day. She admitted that she had no reason to believe that any of these men were dangerous. Still, she kept a careful eye on her children.
Though not sharing his wife’s concerns, Mr Svensson did say that there were a few troublemakers on board. The steerage bar on the forward end of E Deck seemed to be a gathering point. Word had already spread about a shouting match that had erupted the night before, when the crew attempted to close the bar for the night. A group of gamblers, who had been drinking whisky much of the evening, had objected to the game being interrupted. They then apparently moved the late-night session into one of the cabins.
After finishing our tea and wishing the Svenssons good luck in America, Futrelle and I continued on to the bar at the forward end of the ship. We had little to go on, so seeking out trouble seemed to be as good an idea as any.
We made our way up to E Deck, and travelled along a corridor that connected the forward and aft steerage accommodation. It was called ‘Park Lane’ by the officers and ‘Scotland Road’ by the crew. The sound of our footsteps echoed down the steel-walled hallway as we walked along the linoleum-tiled floors. This was a far cry from the regal pathways of first class.
As we walked along the corridor, Futrelle and I poked our heads into some of the open doorways. This area was largely taken up by quarters for cooks, stewards and waiters. There was a good deal of running about, as these industrious crew members travelled to and from their duties. A few, who were having a rest or were off duty, relaxed in their bunks or sat in chairs reading. After passing through the crew area, we found ourselves in a short section of corridor with third-class cabins on either side. Not much activity here. The passengers were away
