Murder on the Titanic

by Evelyn Weiss

III. You and I looked at his statue, which shows him riding on horseback. Remember, when Blanche, you and I went for a walk around Kensington Gardens? The statue is in front of Kensington Palace.”

  “Well, if you remember the statue, you’ll also remember, Agnes, that in that statue, below the horse’s hooves, is a molehill. That’s how William III died. His horse tripped on a molehill.”

  “So – a little mole killed an English king. And the mole – he is the Gentleman in Black Velvet?”

  “Precisely, Agnes. And now, a new Black Velvet wants to topple England’s leadership from its horse.”

  “That gangster – Jimmy Nolan – he said ‘Black Velvet died because he drank something that disagreed with him.’ So are you saying that this Black Velvet, the leader of this conspiracy, was, in fact Percy Spence?”

  “Indeed. It’s true. Society’s darling, the glamorous pilot and racing driver Percy Spence, was in fact Black Velvet. You yourself saw the BV monogram on the pen that you found at his house. But you also saw the letter signed by Black Velvet – not ‘Black Violet’ as Professor Axelson thought – that you found in Kitty’s window. Obviously, that letter was written long after Spence’s death. Therefore Black Velvet remains as the code name for the leader of the conspiracy, whoever he now is. Someone in charge of the plot is still very much alive, and they are carrying on Spence’s work.”

  “So why did you tell Jimmy Nolan that he could call you Black Velvet?”

  “I pretended to Nolan to be that person in charge – that I had inherited Spence’s leadership. And as you saw, I managed to fool him. It wasn’t too difficult: I’ve had plenty of practice at pretending to be Irish over the last two years.”

  “Let me get this straight in my head, Chisholm. Percy Spence was a – traitor?”

  “Or, he was a true friend to Irish patriots. One man’s traitor is another man’s hero. Everything depends which side of the fence you’re on. But from the British point of view, Black Velvet – Spence – is the very worst sort of criminal. Under English law, ‘High Treason’ has always been the most serious of all crimes. If Spence hadn’t been poisoned, it would have been my duty – and Inspector Trench’s – to ensure that he faced the noose.”

  A silence has settled on the two of us, still sitting here at our table. I look around at the ornately furnished bar, I hear the chatter of the other guests, but I’m thinking hard. I realize that despite what Chisholm has said, I still feel unhappy. I’m still angry, because I felt that the professor, Chisholm and I were a team. But all along, one member of that team has had a secret agenda. Again, I have to ask a question.

  “So if you’re operating so secretly, why are you working with Professor Axelson?”

  “As you know, Agnes, I met him the professor here in New York, after the Titanic disaster. He came here to investigate the Spence case, and he approached me. Of course, neither he nor the Canadian police, who he was working with at that time, knew of the espionage. But in other respects he seemed very well-informed, and was already making good progress.”

  “Had you ever met him before?”

  “No. But I did know of him by reputation. I was aware that he has solved some of the most difficult criminal cases in Europe over the last ten years. Meeting the professor was a golden opportunity.”

  “So – you decided to work with Axelson?”

  “Yes. I felt that we had to make use of his expertise, to find Spence’s murderer. Because I felt sure that Spence was killed because of his involvement in the plot. If we could find his killer, we would discover more about the Black Velvet plot.”

  “But you didn’t share your knowledge about Spence’s treachery with the professor.”

  “I wired Lord Buttermere in London. I asked him if I could work with Axelson. My telegram to Buttermere said ‘We have the opportunity to use the expertise of a hypnotist who is a highly successful criminal investigator. May I work with him?’

  Lord Buttermere’s reply was crystal clear. He said that I could work with the professor and make use of his expertise. But I was not to pass any secret information at all to him, even if it might appear to help the professor’s investigation. So I could not tell the professor what I knew about Spence’s treachery. I could not even touch on the name Black Velvet.”

  “So your hands were tied?”

  “Indeed. I didn’t enjoy lying to Axelson, and I felt that it would hamper our investigation. But Lord Buttermere said in his reply to me that, if Professor Axelson’s detective work went well, then the professor himself would come to the correct conclusions about Spence. The truth would become clear to him, through the evidence that he and I would unearth. So you see, Agnes, that I have been forced to play a false part.”

  “I understand that now, Chisholm. I see that you were in a difficult position. But I’m still confused about something else. One of the professor’s theories is that Spence was killed because of involvement in a terrorist plot. But the professor thinks Spence was on our side – that is, the British and American – side, and he was killed by one of the plotters. Colette Morgan, maybe.”

  “Yes. As you say, one of Axelson’s theories about Spence’s death is that Colette Morgan killed Spence. The professor thinks that Colette murdered Spence because she was a traitor, while he was a loyal British agent. However, I have known all along that Spence was not a loyal British agent.”

  “But where does this leave the professor’s suspicions about Colette Morgan? Is she friend or foe? Could she have killed Spence?”

  “We still don’t know. She remains a mystery. As for Spence: he was clever – and complex. He seems to have fooled everyone into thinking he was a loyal British subject. He was very good at gaining people’s trust, their confidence. He had a charm, almost a kind of animal magnetism of personality. And of course his position in society put him in contact with a great many of our current figures of influence. For instance, he was known as a close associate of both the bullish young Conservative, Winston Churchill, and the Liberal Svengali, David Lloyd George.”

  “But if Spence was acting not for us, but for the plotters – who would have a motive to murder him?”

  “It could be a different rebel faction: they are renowned for infighting. Or it could very well be du Pavey or Gilmour, as the professor thinks.”

  “This whole spying business – is it possible, do you think, that either du Pavey or Gilmour might be involved in that?”

  I suddenly lower my voice. The crowd of women is moving towards the bar, and a gap among the gowns and furs reveals a face within the group that I hadn’t seen before. The unmistakable gold tresses and pearl-like complexion of Gwyneth Gilmour. She’s laughing at some joke: all the women are. I signal with my eyes to Chisholm. He nods.

  “I’ve noticed her too, Agnes. Yes, Gwyneth Gilmour is there, and she’s recognized us. But from where she’s standing, she can’t hear a word of what we’re saying. And she’s not interested in us. To her, you and I are just two unimportant people that she saw on the Olympic.”

  “I have one last question, Chisholm. You’re now telling me all this confidential information. So, what’s happened now to all your cloak-and-dagger secrecy?”

  “Yes – it is a sudden change, I admit. The reason is that on the last day of our voyage on the Olympic, I received a coded telegram from British Secret Intelligence. The telegram instructs me to be more open with you and with the professor. I will tell Axelson everything too, when I next see him.”

  “Why? What’s changed?”

  “The situation has altered. This shipment, that Nolan is arranging – it means the plotters are close to striking. Things are going to start moving very fast, Agnes. Axelson and I need to work together with Inspector Trench, and without secrets between us, if we are to stand a chance of stopping them. You see, the telegram also contained further intelligence about the Gophers’ activities. They have been systematically bribing – or threatening – building contractors.”

  “Why building contrac
tors?”

  “This city, Agnes, it keeps reinventing itself: half of Manhattan is a building site. Towering new ‘sky-scrapers’ are growing like a forest. Such rapid development can only be achieved through the demolition of the old buildings, which has to be done quickly. You can guess how the builders do that.”

  “Explosives.”

  “Exactly. Almost every building firm in Manhattan uses explosives. A few dollars of bribery here, a threat to a man’s family there, and errors appear in building companies’ inventories. Supplies of dynamite go missing. The intelligence I’ve received suggests that the Gophers now have enough high explosives to blow up half of central London.”

  More laughter breaks out among the women, but they’re getting ready to move on from the Metropole now: they are going to a theatre or a restaurant, I guess. A couple of the men come over and take the arms of two of the ladies. I glance up to confirm to myself that Calvin Gilmour is not among the men. The whole group leaves: the bar is empty except for Chisholm and I. It’s the mid-afternoon quiet time in here, I guess, and the bartender’s occupied, gathering and cleaning empty glasses, but I still speak in a near-whisper.

  “So what you’re saying, Chisholm, is that the plot is ready to carry out their attack.”

  “Nearly ready – but not quite. Their only problem is how to get the explosives from New