"And Her Majesty Queen Victoria, whose picture I found gracing the meeting hall of Trepoff's no-name society, is going to spend tomorrow on board her yacht, the Victoria and Albert," Moriarty said. "And if I were an anarchist, the queen of the largest empire in the world would certainly be a tempting target."
"They'd never dare!" Barnett exclaimed. "The public revulsion would set their cause back a hundred years."
"Exactly Trepoff's aim," Moriarty said.
"We must get to Portsmouth without delay!" Holmes said.
Moriarty stretched out his hand for his Bradshaw's. "Let us see what the British Railways have to say about that. It is fourteen minutes past nine, and the next train to Portsmouth…" He riffled through the pages thoughtfully, then put the guide down. "It appears that we cannot get to Portsmouth by any scheduled train any earlier than eleven-oh-four tomorrow morning. Which will never do."
"Intolerable!" Holmes said. "What shall we do?"
"Hire a Special," Moriarty told him. "I'll send out Mr. Maws now to arrange it. If you'd like to go back to Baker Street and pack, Holmes, I'll meet you at Waterloo Station in an hour."
"Very good," Holmes said, getting up. "A Special. If you don't mind, I shall bring my companion, Dr. Watson, along. He is a good man to have at your back."
"By all means," Moriarty said. "Barnett, will you join us?"
"You couldn't keep me away!" Barnett exclaimed.
TWENTY-ONE — VICTORIA AND ALBERT
MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN.
— The Book of Daniel
It was eleven twenty-six before way clearance was obtained for the trip, and the Special — one ancient engine and two cars — pulled out of Waterloo Station. Sherlock Holmes and his taciturn friend Dr. Watson joined Moriarty and Barnett in the compartment farthest from the engine, where it was quietest, and discussed the situation.
Dr. Watson was a portly, ruddy-faced, handsome man with a well-trimmed mustache. Barnett had met him briefly when he and Holmes had come to Barnett's rescue in the house of the explosive musical box. Now Barnett took the opportunity to study him more closely. He was the epitome of the Victorian Englishman, and the perfect foil for Holmes. Stolid, slow, without Holmes's incisive mind or ready wit, he was nonetheless brave, loyal, and as tenacious as an English pit bulldog. He contributed little to the conversation, but seemed content to sit back and appreciate every word uttered by Sherlock Holmes.
"We must decide upon a course of action," Moriarty told Holmes, modulating his voice to be easily heard over the clacking of the wheels. "We will have precious little time."
"If we are right," Holmes said.
"I admit that the probabilities are only slightly better than half," Moriarty said, "but it is on the strength of that half that we are all aboard this Special, puffing through Guildford at a quarter past midnight."
"I thought you were both convinced that you were right," Barnett said.
"It was not the conviction that we were right, but rather the fear that we might be right that has compelled us to this trip," Moriarty said. "And now we must proceed as though we had no doubts."
"We will have to alert the authorities," Holmes said.
"Police or naval?" Moriarty asked. "And tell them what?"
"Nevertheless the attempt will have to be made."
Moriarty shrugged. "As you will," he said. "The most important thing is to locate the submersible. We will, of course, attempt to capture Trepoff as well, but stopping the submersible must have the first priority."
"Consider that the submersible may be already submersed," Holmes said. "Sitting on the bottom, awaiting the proper moment."
Barnett shook his head. "No chance," he said. "There are two problems: air and fuel. When the craft is submerged it runs on electrical storage batteries, which give off noxious fumes when in use. As a result the air must be purged every two hours, which is also when the batteries expire and must be recharged."
"Let us suppose," Holmes said argumentatively, "that the craft merely rests on the bottom and does not call upon the batteries for motive power. How long then?"
Barnett shook his head. "I'm no expert," he said. "I'm just remembering what I was told by Lieutenant Sefton — the man I was supposed to have murdered — before the trials. I believe that the air does foul, but at a slower rate. The oxygen in the air gets used up by the occupants' breathing, in any case."
"Trepoff will need all his submerged time to make good his escape," Moriarty said. "The submersible will remain in its hiding place until Trepoff is ready to strike. Then it will proceed directly to its target, blow up the Victoria and Albert with the queen aboard, and leave the harbor. Somewhere in the Solent a ship will be waiting to pick up the submersible — or at least its crew — and remove them from the area."
"What makes you think Trepoff will be so solicitous of the welfare of his agents?" Holmes asked.
"He may well be aboard himself," Moriarty said. "And although certainly a brave and daring man, he tends to be careful of his own welfare. Besides, he couldn't afford to have four Russian sailors, clearly not anarchists, captured. Killed, perhaps; but not captured."
"That brings us to an interesting question," Holmes said, thoughtfully pressing the tips of his fingers together. "How is Trepoff planning to make it clear that this is an anarchist outrage? Surely he isn't going to leave it to be supposed."
"Somehow anarchists are going to be apprehended for this crime," Moriarty agreed. "Probably in such a state that they can't reveal too much."
"Dead," Barnett said.
"Quite probably," Moriarty said.
"Dastardly plot," Doctor Watson said.
As the Special chugged and clanked its way across the quiet English countryside, the four men in the compartment looked silently at each other. This was not the proper setting for such horrors. They should take place in an alien clime, not in damp, stolid, virtuous Victorian England. They did not belong here, and the possibility of their presence was disquieting.
"I don't see that we can accomplish anything useful tonight," Moriarty said. "We won't arrive until about half past two. I suggest we get a few hours sleep and start fresh in the morning."
"I agree," Holmes said. "Creeping around in the dark in a city one is not familiar with would not be overly productive."
"My feeling is that Trepoff will pick the moment of the awarding of the cups as his prime moment to attack," Moriarty said. "It will create maximum effect and confusion. The area will be full of boats going in all directions. That should maximize his chances of escaping."
"What time is that, Professor?" Watson asked. "When is Her Majesty presenting the cups?"
"The newspaper estimated that it will take place around six in the evening," Moriarty said. "If we start looking at six in the morning, that will give us twelve hours to find the submersible before it is employed."
"God grant that it is enough time," Holmes said.
"All the inns in Portsmouth are most probably filled this weekend," Moriarty said. "I have taken the liberty of adding a sleeping car to our special, as, fortunately, one was available."
"I was wondering what the extra car was," Barnett said.
"We shall each have our own compartment," Moriarty said. "Not exactly the ultimate in luxury, but it will serve."
"The expense for the sleeping car must have been considerable," Holmes said. "Surely this was an extravagance."
"I believe the Tsar can afford it," Moriarty said.
-
The special pulled into a siding in the Portsmouth yard shortly after two in the morning, and the group separated to get what sleep they could.
Barnett would have been willing to swear that it was no more than a few minutes after he lay his head on the small pillow that a fully dressed Moriarty was poking him awake. Barnett groaned and sat up. "What time is it?" he asked.