March 1905 RMS Idyllic The Mediterranean Sea Captain Durham presents Lyons with the handkerchief in the privacy of his quarters. "What do you make of it, Lyons?" Jack has spent his entire life feigning his emotions, and he does so now. Rina has quite skillfully and successfully planted Bazilov's handkerchief. Now it is apparent that he is the culprit in the mystery of the stolen jewels and key, a crime that Rina herself had committed. Now Bazilov is the perfect patsy. Lyons hesitates, feigning indecisiveness. "I wouldn't be too hasty, Captain, to place the blame on Bazilov." "Who else would it be, man?" Durham's face is beet red in contrast to his bristling, white friendly mutton chops. "M.A.B.," the Captain reads. "Maximilian Alexandros Bazilov! I've seen the register; no other passengers have these initials." "I beg you to consider, Skipper, that the initials may not belong to the culprit but to a relation or acquaintance. Or perhaps the handkerchief itself was stolen and placed here as a red herring. Bazilov's past has been a questionable one, I grant you, but petty thievery is quite beneath the likes of him. Besides, what is his motive?" Captain Durham paces the room and sets his gaze on the barometer hanging upon the wall. "I appreciate your good sense, Lyons. I knew having you aboard would be a boon. He shall be questioned, at any rate. In the meantime, see to that lovely bride of yours. That's an order." Jack smiles, adjusts his tie, and musters up a bridegroom's innocent blush. "Thank you, sir. We shall see you at dinner." Rather than return to the stateroom, where a curiously aloof Rina is waiting on the delivery of her meal, Lyons returns to the smoking room to confront Bazilov. The cunning industrialist is sitting where Jack had been sitting the evening before, reading the same paper. The spy takes the seat beside him. "Are you aware," Lyons speaks just audibly enough that only Bazilov can hear, "that there has been a theft aboard the ship?" "Your handiwork?" Bazilov asks knowingly. "What do you think?" "I thought you were smarter than that, Lyons, letting yourself get caught." "It's all part of the plan, my dear Bazilov. Unfortunately, I've created quite a dilemma for myself." Jack accepts a snifter of brandy from the waiter. "How's that, my dear boy?" "An officer is stationed at the end of the corridor," Lyons lies. "I cannot get to my room without being apprehended. In my room is some rather valuable information for you." "What have you got, Lyons?" Bazilov takes the bait. "Some incriminating letters and photographs of one Mr Charles Tundale, an engineer at Vickers. He's the young man playing cards over there. The evidence will effectively end Vickers' relationship with the Royal Navy." Sir John can see the wheels turning in Bazilov's head. "Give me your room key, Lyons," he says, hardly able to contain his excitement. "And I will get the evidence myself. I know of one or two associates of mine who will be able to use such materials to great effect." "It's risky, Bazilov," Jack says between drinks of brandy. "You said the guard is at the end of the corridor, no? Then he won't take notice when I walk by. And I'll be sure he's not looking when I pop in and out of your suite." Jack sighs. "Very well. Here is my room key," he says, handing Bazilov the key and telling him the suite number. "The documents and photographs are in a parcel under the bed." "I shall not forget this, Lyons," Bazilov says earnestly, firmly shaking Jack's hand. Bazilov abandons his brandy and cigar, presently, eager to acquire that parcel. "Nor shall I, Max," Jack says to himself, raising his glass and smiling devilishly. At the card table, Jack takes the only empty seat. "Before changing for dinner, I thought I'd play a quick hand. What are we playing, gentlemen?" The players welcome Lyons and have high hopes for the size of his pocketbook. Zeno and Bashir are here for high stakes, that is certain. But Tundale will be tight, Sir John says to himself. When he starts the wager uncomfortably high, Tindale folds for the evening. "Good evening, gentlemen. Until dinner." Jack nods in reply and shares a wide grin of satisfaction with the other men there. Rina would undoubtedly be very keen to know why Jack never returned for dinner. Sir John Lyons enters the ballroom in white tie and evening clothes. The grand space is like something out of a Russian palace. The walls are made of gold-paneled woodwork and long mirrors. Lyons finds Rina waltzing in the arms of Alasdair Rothes. Her light pink dress and rose quartz embellishments put the opulence of the chandeliers to shame, and they are dimmed by her glow. The eight-piece orchestra's air casts a spell throughout the room. Rothes courteously bows upon Lyons's approach and places Rina's hand into the hand of her new husband. "Sorry I'm late, my dear." The waltz continues as Lyons whirls his bride out into the open deck space where many couples have found pleasure in the balmy, Mediterranean breezes. Chandeliers are replaced by moonlight and stars, where Jack holds her tightly about the waist and lets the music carry them away from the throng. "You were marvellous, today, my dear." "Is Bazilov in the brig, then?" Rina smiles. "He is, indeed," Jack answers, thanking her with a warm kiss. "Then where have you been all evening?" Rina pulls away, not yet agreeing to fall for Jack's fairy tale. "I've spent most of the evening with Captain Durham. The handkerchief was a good start, but it would never have been enough to put Bazilov away for good. Still, it put the idea into the Captain's mind. Later I tricked Bazilov by giving him the Captain's passkey and directing him to Charles Tundale's state room. He thought he was going into ours. At cards, when the stakes got too high for Mr Tundale, he retired only to find a thief in his room. An officer was there immediately to apprehend Bazilov and confirm the Captain's suspicions that he was guilty. Durham got his I-told-you-so in, and I accepted it with humility." "Naturally," Rina laughs, lazily wrapping her gloved arms around Jack's neck. The two join lips and relish their long-awaited intimacy. "Mmmm, this spy thing really could become a habit with me, you know."