The Adventure of the Plated Spoon and Other Tales of Sherlock Holmes by Loren D. Estleman Read Free Book Online

waterproof compartments. I read all the literature.”
    â€œPlease follow instructions,” the captain said, a bit more sharply. “Leave that body where it is.”
    â€œI must get to May,” Futrelle said. I hurried after him. There would be time for the rest later.
    Within minutes we were on the deck with May. She was clinging to her husband, unwilling to let go. “Aren’t there enough lifeboats for everyone?” she asked. The answer was already plain. The Titanic was sinking and there was room enough for only half the passengers in the lifeboats. It was 12:25 A.M. when the order came for women and children to abandon ship. We had scraped against the iceberg only forty-five minutes earlier.
    â€œJacques!” May Futrelle screamed, and he pushed her to safety in the nearest lifeboat. “Now what?” he asked me, as the half-full lifeboat was being lowered to the dark churning waters. “Do we go back for our murderer?”
    â€œSo you spotted it, too?” I asked, already leading the way.
    â€œThe missing cane. I only saw Glacet once, but he walked with the aid of a stout walking stick.”
    â€œExactly,” I agreed. “And I’m told he used it regularly. It wasn’t on top of the elevator car and it hadn’t slipped down to the bottom of the shaft. That meant he didn’t step into that empty shaft accidentally. He had help.” We were on the Grand Staircase now, and spotted our quarry. “Didn’t he, Mr. Baynes?”
    He turned at the sound of his name, and drew a revolver from under his coat. “Damn you, Holmes! You’ll go down with the ship.”
    â€œWe all will, Baynes. The women and children are leaving. The rest of us will stay. Glacet recognized you as a confidence man he’d once pursued, a man named Sanbey—a simple anagram for Baynes. Somehow you got him into your cabin tonight to stare at your electric crystal ball. When the bright light had temporarily blinded him, you helped him to the elevator, then sent the car down and pushed him after it. Only you forgot his walking stick. That probably went over the side when you discovered it.”
    The great ship listed suddenly, throwing us against the staircase railing. “I’m getting out of here, Holmes! I’ll find room in a lifeboat if I have to don women’s clothes!” He raised the revolver and fired.
    And in that instant, before I could move, Futrelle jumped between us. He took the bullet meant for me and collided with Baynes, sending them both over the railing of the Grand Staircase.
    Somehow I made my way into the night air. It was just after one o’clock, and the orchestra had moved to the boat deck to continue playing. The remaining passengers were beginning to panic. Suddenly someone grabbed me and shoved me toward a lifeboat. “Only twelve aboard Starboard Number One, sir. Plenty of room for you.”
    â€œI’ll stay,” I said, but it was not to be. I was pushed bodily into the boat as it was being lowered.
    It was from there, an hour later, that I saw the last of the great Titanic vanish beneath the waves, carrying a victim, a murderer, and a mystery writer with it. Two hours after that, a ship called the Carpathia plucked us from the water, amidst floating ice and debris. Margo Collier was among the survivors, but I never saw her again.
    A final note by Dr. Watson: It was not until 1918, at the close of the Great War, that my old friend Holmes entrusted this account to my care. By that time, my literary agent, Arthur Conan Doyle, had embraced spiritualism. He refused to handle a story in which a spiritualist was revealed to be a sham and a murderer. This most dramatic of adventures has remained unpublished.

EXCERPT FROM THE INSIDIOUS DR. FU-MANCHU
SAX ROHMER
    H istory doesn’t tell us what Conan Doyle thought of Sax Rohmer’s series about Dr. Fu-Manchu, an international supercriminal bent on conquering the