Tommy carried the articles with him to the boardinghouse. It was the only way he knew to convince Basil that he still belonged in London. He had to talk the detective into going back; if this didn't work, Tommy didn't know what would. All he knew was that, no matter what the queen had said about Basil, it couldn't possibly be true.
As Tommy approached the room the trio of adults shared, he heard arguing through the closed door. He stood in the hallway and listened to what was being said.
Dr. Dawson was again attempting to reason with the sickly detective. "Basil, if you return to those streets, you most certainly get worse. With winter soon approaching, pneumonia will set in, and your body won't be able to fight it off. Have you any idea where I'm headed with this?"
Basil looked at his associate but didn't respond.
"Chances are, you won't survive. You'll die, Basil. How on earth would Flaversham break news like that to Olivia?"
The detective involuntarily gasped before turning his face from Dr. Dawson. "She'd be all right. She lived six years without me in her life; she could learn to do it again."
Tears sprang to Dr. Dawson's eyes, and he fought to keep control. "Confound it, Basil, that little girl loves you, and you've been a part of her life for three years—three years that she will never forget.
"And what about the rest of us? You have no idea how much Flaversham, Mrs. Judson and I have missed you. Life isn't the same without you. But here you lay, suggesting we forget we ever knew you. Do you honestly believe we could do that? Could you walk out of our lives and not regret it?"
Basil's heart broke at the desperation in his friend's voice. He answered quietly, "It's better this way, Dawson, believe me. The empire can get along just fine without me—they don't need me."
Cap had been sitting silently, wondering when to offer his one piece of the puzzle. Hearing Basil admit his belief that he was no longer needed made up Cap's mind.
The sailor stood up from his chair and pointed a finger at the detective. "That's not true. We need someone to protect us. You've been framed, Basil, and you're the only one capable of stopping him. I can help you; I know who did it."
Both of his companions looked sharply at him, Dr. Dawson in wonder, Basil in near anger.
"Who do you think you are? You weren't asked to help me on your ship. You weren't asked to come looking for me. You weren't asked for your input. If you know who did it, why don't you go after him yourself?"
"Because I don't know where he is! You're the only one who could find him!"
Dr. Dawson stepped in to soothe his companions' tempers. "That will be quite enough. Cap, this won't help him get better, nor"—he lowered his voice—"will it convince him to come home." Resuming a normal tone of voice, he stated, "Now, on whom are you placing the blame?"
The sailor looked at Basil as he responded, "The boy's father, Professor Ratigan's son-in-law."
Basil waved him off. "Impossible. Ratigan's only child went to sea years ago because he—"
"Because I wanted nothing to do with my father's business. Yes, I'm the son."
