Watson on the Orient Express: A Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mystery (The Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mysteries Book 17) by Anna Elliott & Charles Veley

Author:Anna Elliott & Charles Veley [Elliott, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wilton Press
Published: 2020-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

We had stopped at Strasbourg when I said goodnight to the woman calling herself Jane Griffin and returned to my compartment. The attendant had already transformed my sofa into a bed. I ran my fingers over the silken sheets and held up the soft eiderdown pillow. But I had no time for sleep. I had to think. I needed to understand what might await me in Constantinople so I could warn Holmes.

I lifted my shade and peered outside my window, with the absurd notion that I might recognise someone. But only a uniformed railway attendant was on the platform. I realised that the train, being full, would not have passengers waiting to board, nor would a passenger on the Orient Express be likely to get off at the first stop from Paris. There were far less expensive ways to make that relatively short journey.

Beside the attendant was a tall table, resembling a speaker’s podium. A second man approached, in a different uniform, carrying a valise. I saw his face. Maurice. I watched him walk up to the other attendant and place the valise on the podium. He opened the valise and took out a stack of leather folders resembling the passport Maurice had shown me earlier that evening. The attendant nodded, and Maurice returned the folders to the valise. Then I saw Jane Griffin on the platform, walking towards Maurice and the attendant. She handed the attendant a folded piece of yellow paper and a banknote. The two nodded. She returned to the train with Maurice. Her report to Sonnebourne, I thought.

A shrill whistle blew, and the train moved forward. As it picked up speed, I tried to focus my thoughts. What would happen in Constantinople?

The sleek-haired assassin was on his way. I might recognise him from behind, but I had not seen his face. I only knew Sonnebourne had ordered him to kill the diplomat, kill Holmes, and then kill the Torrance woman, who now called herself Jane Griffin.

But Jane Griffin had said she was the assassin. And, to help destroy Sonnebourne, she planned to steal the payment money and vanish. What would happen when she met the sleek-haired man? Would he kill her? Or would she kill him?

And what awaited me in Constantinople?

According to Jane Griffin, Holmes and I were to be blamed for the assassination. That was why Sonnebourne had paid for me to occupy this expensive compartment on this luxurious train. How would I be set up? Was someone waiting to attack me, as they had done in London? Or was there some other scheme?

What to do? What to believe? How to plan?

I seemed to hear Holmes’s voice.

It is useless, even dangerous, to speculate until we have established the facts.

And there was one fact that I had to identify. One thread that might unravel the tangled web in which I found myself enmeshed.

I sat down on the bed, took out a pad and pen, wrote a telegraph message to Mycroft Holmes, and then coded it. In plain text the message read:

Mrs.

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