Holmes nodded.

"Terrible, isn't it?", the Inspector continued, "I'm sure you would like to see the other pianists?"

Mayburn led us to the lounge, where all other pianists sat together. Our view fell immediately on a middle-aged women, who sat there shivering, with all colour drawn from her face, and a gentleman of the same age sitting next to her, patting her hand softly.

"Kirsten Madsen.31 years old, Dane."
"I take it that she was it who found Ms Svoboda."
"Yes, Mr Holmes. Mrs Madsen went upstairs to wake Ms Svoboda, after she hadn't been at lunch with the others."
"And the man next to her?"
" Marceau Godefroy. 34 years, Belgian."
"Say, Inspector, where's Mr Eideard?"

The Inspector suddenly blinked. He looked round the room, but Mr Eideard wasn't here.

"He's upstairs in his room." A short man with a strong german accent answered.

Mayburn raised an eyebrow:
"So so. He's not here after another of his guests has been killed?!"
Then he looked at Mr Amberson, who leant against the fireplace.
"Strange, isn't it? What do you think, Mr Holmes?"
"There are a lot of strange elements in this case, Mr Amberson."

Holmes simply stood there for a while, his eyes wandering from one of the guests to another.
"Come, Watson."

Suddenly he turned around and moved towards the door. "Inspector Mayburn, would you please come with us. We got to have a word with Mr Eideard."

"There you're not the only one." The Inspector waved two of his men to follow us, but in the moment Holmes closed the door behind us, he told the Inspector to send them to the practice rooms. Then we three finally reached Mr Eideard's room.

"Mr Eideard?"
No answer to the Inspector's knocking.
"Mr Eideard, open the door."
"I don't want to see anyone, go away!", a rough voice came from the inside.
"Mr Eideard, you better open up, you're already in trouble."
"I know!", with these words the man finally opened the door a bit, "but still I don't want to see anyone now."

"My dear Sir. We have to talk to you." Holmes pushed the door open, and we were able to look into a room that was so much different than what we saw till now. This really was what I expected to see in the house of an musician. The shelves on the wall were packed with books and music-sheets. On a small table by the door laid a shining silver flute and a bust of Beethoven stood on a piano in the middle of the room. The only thing I couldn't identify was another bust of a young lady by the window.

Mr Eideard stepped to the window.
"So what do you want now?"

"Mr Eideard, I'm here to arrest..." "You shouldn't do this, Inspector. It's just not right"

Before Mayburn was able to answer anything Holmes sat down at the piano and started playing.

"Holmes, this is really not the time for such things."
"Why not, Watson?"
In this moment I finally was able to identify the music as what was written on these strange sheets.

"Mr Holmes, in my opinion you can do whatever you want. But I have to do my job."

Quiet puzzled about Holmes' words sat down and watched Mr Eideard taking the girl's bust from the window and stroking it's cheek carefully.

"My dear Amelyne.", Mr Eideard whispered, looking at the face of the bust, with tears shooting into his eyes, "My dear little Amelyne."

A quiet minute past. Mr Eideard placed the bust of his daughter in the window again.

"Amelyne disappeared one month ago. She just came back from travelling the continent and had just reached Dover when I heard from her the last time. A few days later the music-sheets you've found laid on my doorstep. It took me a while till I looked through the code, but then...I took almost everything that reminds me of my dear daughter from the other rooms.."

"What code are you talking about, Mr Eideard?"
"Morse-code, Inspector.", Holmes answered, "Mr Eideard's daughter has been kidnapped. And obviously the men who have her are behind the murders. Mr Eideard shall announce the kidnapper's brother as the contest's winner, otherwise first the pianists and then Ms Amelyne will get killed."

"Mr...Mr Eideard! Is it really that way?!", the Inspector shouted. The man just nodded melancholy.
"I'm happy I can trust your word, Mr Holmes. But do you already know who's the blackmailer?"
"Unfortunately No, Inspector. The problem is, not even Mr Eideard seems to know it, is that correct, Sir."
"Yes, Mr Holmes. I would have had no problem with announcing that scoundrel as the winner if I could have saved my daughter's and the poor pianists' lifes, but I have absolutely no clue who could be this madman's brother."

"Mr Eideard.", Holmes said with a very earnest voice, "was there anything unusual going on before you're daughter got kidnapped?" "No, only that I received a letter from Mr Derryl Stockton, saying that his friend Mr Amberson will take his place in the competition this year, because Mr Stockton broke his arm and won't be able to play. Mr Stockton is a quiet young man from Liverpool, who has joined the competition for the last 7 years. He never won, thought, but he's very talented. I was rather sad not to hear him again."
"Not to 'hear' him?"

"Yes, I saw him when he came here with Mr Amberson. Since that he's staying at 'The Laughing Fish' a hotel with pub, or better the other way round, near by."

Proceed to Part 11