facts.’
‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ said Miss Norton, still somewhat annoyed by Holmes’s gymnastics display. ‘But could we talk outside, in the sunshine?’
‘Of course, Miss Norton.’ He picked up his jacket and hat. ‘And I apologize if I disturbed you just now. I promise to keep my feet firmly planted on deck until we reach New York.’ He smiled at her.
After a moment’s pause, her face, too, brightened into a warm grin. ‘I dread to think what mother would have said if she had seen you up there!’
We continued down to the deck and on through the gates to the promenade deck. It was not long before we were approached head-on by Mr Boxhall. He was walking at a crisp pace.
‘Excuse me, Mr Lightoller,’ he said, paying his respects to a superior officer. ‘The captain wants to see the commodore at once.’
‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘It’s the missing stoker, Strickley... They have found his body.’
Lightoller showed us the way to the crew’s hospital, which was situated on the forward end of C Deck between the crew’s galley and the firemen’s mess. Strickley’s body was stretched out on the examining table. Captain Smith stood by as William O’Loughlin, the ship’s surgeon, and J Edward Simpson, the assistant surgeon, examined the deceased.
The two surgeons made quite a team, indeed. Doctor O’Loughlin was a fine old gentleman who enjoyed walking about the ship conversing with passengers. We had met briefly when Holmes and I accompanied the captain and his officers on their inspection of the ship and then later near the motorcars. Simpson was a much younger man. He had a reputation for being more gregarious and, according to fellow shipmates, had a somewhat mischievous sense of humour.
‘Doctor Watson, it is good to see you again. I am glad you could come as this may interest you.’ Doctor O’Loughlin beckoned me to move closer to the examining table. I greeted him, ‘You remember Commodore Winter?’
The captain then introduced Futrelle and Miss Norton. O’Loughlin seemed perplexed by the presence of these two newcomers — especially the young woman — but said nothing.
‘Well then, back to work,’ said O’Loughlin. ‘Doctor Watson, I think you will agree that there is no doubt about how Mr Strickley died.’
Even from a distance, I could see the line of blood around the stoker’s throat. On closer examination, I saw that the wound was not deep. But there was a thin, red indentation that ran all the way around the neck. The colour of the face confirmed my conclusion.
‘This man was garrotted to death,’ I said.
‘Precisely,’ said O’Loughlin.
Holmes stepped forward to conduct his own examination. ‘Where was the body found?’
‘The kitchen staff found him in a sack in the potato store,’ Simpson interjected. ‘The poor chap’s foot was sticking out of the end of the sack. He...’ The young doctor was silenced by a disapproving look from the captain. ‘We believe he walked down the corridor with his killer, who somehow got him into the food storage area and did the deed.’
‘Did anyone see them walking together?’ Holmes asked.
‘No one we could find,’ the captain replied. ‘We are questioning the crew. Meanwhile, we are completely in the dark.’
‘Captain, I would like to examine the food storage area and the corridor from Strickley’s cabin.’
‘Certainly, Commodore. Mr Lightoller will assist you. And gentlemen, Miss Norton, I must remind you again, discretion is of the utmost importance. We are trying to keep the knowledge of this incident to ourselves.’
‘Of course,’ said Holmes. ‘We fully appreciate your many responsibilities as captain of this ship.’
I was relieved to see that the captain remained calm and in command of the situation, his mild outburst at breakfast being only a temporary indulgence. I had no doubt that this was a man who could remain strong and decisive through any ordeal.
But I found myself frustrated by our lack of progress in finding Miss Norton’s lost plans. And, beyond that, we were contending with two unsolved murders and the aftermath of a political conspiracy. Yet, despite all this nefarious activity, I found my thoughts constantly returning to Miss Storm-Fleming’s dinner invitation. Why did she want to see me privately? Clearly, she knew more than she was telling. Did she have some information to convey about the plans, or one of the murders? I would soon find out.
THE EVENING OF SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912
By seven o’clock the temperature on deck had dropped dramatically. It was nearly freezing, and most of the passengers had retired to the comfort of the ship below decks. Holmes, after assuring me that there was no more I could do this evening, had rushed off to continue the investigation on his own. After years of following Holmes’s methods, I knew that he could disappear for several hours — or days — and come back with amazing results. But I must confess, it always made me feel somewhat useless. In any case, we had arranged to meet at 11.30 in the smoking room. I would find out then whether or not he had made any progress.
I had time to spare before meeting Miss Storm-Fleming, so I wandered into the smoking room, which was on A Deck. There, I witnessed a most curious exchange between Captain Smith and Mr J Bruce Ismay. The two were engaged in what appeared to be a casual conversation. Having met Mr Ismay earlier, I decided that it would not be out of place to stroll up and pay my respects. The captain greeted me when I arrived.
‘Doctor Watson, good evening,’ he said cordially. ‘We were just chatting about the weather. Have you been on deck lately?’
‘Yes, just now. It certainly has taken a turn for the worse. Is this typical for this part of the Atlantic?’
‘It is fairly common. We are a fair distance to the north.’
‘But not to worry,’ said Ismay. ‘We are making very good time.’
I found this news far from pleasing, since time was our greatest impediment in recovering the plans.
Ismay then took a step towards me and looked about in all directions. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke in hushed tones.
‘Doctor Watson, I am glad we happened to meet this evening. I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you for your heroic efforts yesterday. Imagine, anarchists on board this ship! If it had not been for you and your companions...well, the outcome might have been disastrous.’
‘I must say, this voyage has been far more exciting than I had expected.’ Once again, my sense of humour got the better of me. ‘I realize that the White Star Line promises its passengers adventure, but I do not believe that this is what you had in mind.’
Ismay laughed politely. ‘No, certainly not. But I am also very glad to see that you are keeping your sense of humour after the ordeal you have been through. Have you recovered?’
I gave the question serious consideration. ‘Much to my surprise, I am feeling better than I have felt in months — perhaps even a trifle younger.’
Ismay seemed perplexed by my answer. But not the captain. There was a knowing look in the eyes of the old seaman.
‘In any event I would appreciate it if you would pass along my heartfelt thanks to your friends,’ said Ismay.
‘I will do that, sir.’
The captain echoed Ismay’s words of appreciation. He then turned to his employer and abruptly changed the subject.
‘By the way, have you got that radio message which I gave you this afternoon?’
Ismay thought for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket. ‘Yes, here it is.’
Smith opened the folded piece of paper and read the message. ‘Thank you. I want to put it up in the officers’ chart room.’
‘Anything wrong, Captain?’ I asked.
