call in the Yard unless they’re driven to it. Put the winkles out of your mind, Thackeray, and use the rest of the journey to set your thoughts in order for a piece of smart investigating.’
Two tunnels on, Thackeray caught Cribb’s eye again, in transit from
Cribb was silent, disinclined to relate the criminal career of Mr. Punch for the benefit of his assistant.
‘Part of any seaside holiday,’ Thackeray persisted.
Cribb spoke without looking up. ‘Constable, there was one other murder I should have mentioned earlier. A year ago, on this very line, a Mr. Gold was done to death in the Brighton Express by one Lefroy, whose effigy is now in Madame Tussaud’s. If you ask me one more question I guarantee there’ll soon be a likeness of me standing beside him in the waxworks. Just think
Grafton Street, where they had been asked to report, proved to be a turning off the Marine Parade, as handsome a setting for a police station as either detective had encountered. Constabulary duties in such surroundings could not be anything but delightful. The cab-drive along the front, besides introducing them to the champagne quality of the sea air, afforded glimpses of a way of life seldom seen anywhere in London but Hyde Park. Society beauties paraded in open carriages, warding off the undesirable effects of the sun with lace parasols, and contriving simultaneously to be seen to advantage from both sides of the road. Others rode on horseback or walked beside young men in blazers and straw hats. In the background the waves lazily unfurled and sent dazzling white foam racing up the shingle. What a beat for some fortunate bobby to pound!
The atmosphere inside the station was just as balmy. ‘A pot of fresh tea, if you please, Constable Murphy,’ called the duty sergeant as they entered. ‘It’s either two gentlemen what’ve come to confess to stealing a pair of boots each, size twelve, or the reinforcements from the Yard are here. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Privileged to meet you. Brown’s my name and Pink’s my Inspector’s. Singular, don’t you think? I’d better take you straight in to him. Murphy will take care of your things.’ Inspector Pink was misnamed. His face bore witness to thirty summers or more of service on the south coast, as brown and creased as one of last season’s potatoes. ‘Uncommon glad to see you, gentlemen. It’s not often that we get a case that we know straight away is quite beyond the skills of our own detectives. Extraordinary affair, this. He damned near got away with it, too. If it hadn’t been for a sharp-eyed young lad, he certainly would have.’
‘There was a witness to the crime, then?’ said Cribb.
‘No, more’s the pity. Don’t know where it happened, or when. This boy was smart enough to spot the evidence, that’s all. He reported it to the manager, who came straight to us this morning. It’s still in place. We couldn’t have moved it if we’d wanted. You’ll see why. If you’re not too tired, we’ll go along as soon as you finish your tea. It’s just a short walk from here.’
The inspector was clearly determined not to spoil the impact of his evidence
‘I’m sure you must have heard of our aquarium,’ said the Inspector as he led them down the granite steps. ‘Designed by Birch, the fellow who built the West Pier. It’s always been a favourite place of mine. There’s something about the atmosphere. This is a deuced unfortunate thing to happen. I only hope it won’t discourage visitors.’
‘The reverse, I should think,’ said Cribb.
They strode importantly through the reading-room and along the main aisle, their substantial tread diverting attention from the tanks. Halfway along, a large, uniformed constable was reinforcing a notice announcing that owing to unforeseen circumstances the Alligator and Crocodile Cavern was temporarily closed. A small man in pince-nez hovered anxiously nearby.
‘This is the manager, Mr. Pym,’ the Inspector explained. ‘Sergeant Cribb and his assistant are from the Criminal Investigation Department, Mr. Pym. They will be conducting this inquiry.’
Mr. Pym advanced a nervous hand. ‘Most gratified. I hope that we shall not need to involve the newspapers. It could have such a discouraging effect on attendances.’
‘Have you done as I asked?’ enquired Inspector Pink.
‘Yes. The big one is well-drugged, and I think the others are asleep too. Shall we go inside?’
‘We shall need more light,’ said the inspector. ‘Where did you put the bull’s-eyes, Constable?’
‘Just inside the door, sir, on your left.’
Even with lanterns lit and probing the interior, the shape and size of the cavern were disconcertingly difficult to make out. ‘Your eyes will get accustomed shortly,’ Mr. Pym assured them. ‘It’s perfectly safe to step forward. The specimens are all on the other side of the glass.’
‘This is the tank,’ said the inspector. ‘
‘In their natural state they let the tick-birds clear their teeth of leeches,’ volunteered Mr. Pym.
‘Now take a look at this,’ said the inspector. ‘Wedged down between the rock and the glass. What do you think of that, gentlemen?’
The lantern beams converged on a section at the base of the tank normally in shadow, the arrangement of the rocks ensuring that the reptiles were kept a yard or so away from the glass. There, in a crevice formed between rock and glass, was a human hand, severed above the wrist and resting on its stump, palm facing outwards.
‘The devil of it is,’ said Inspector Pink, ‘that this is all we’ve got to go on. Where the rest of the body is you may well conjecture, gentlemen.’
The wicked yellow eyes of the largest inmate of the tank continued to glitter unwinkingly in the artificial light.
‘He must have been a sharp lad to spot it down here,’ said Cribb. ‘Could have lain here a long time. What time was it he saw you, Mr. Pym?’
‘Half past nine, I should think. I closed the cavern to visitors and went straight to the police station.’
‘And I decided to send a cable to the Yard at once,’ added the inspector. ‘It was too much for my chaps to tackle-or not enough, rather. What do you propose, Sergeant?’
‘I shall need to get the evidence out, take a closer look at it.’
‘I thought of that,’ the inspector said proudly. ‘Mr. Pym has drugged the crocodiles.’
‘Fish soaked in morphia,’ explained Mr. Pym.
‘Have they all eaten some?’
‘The big fellow has,’ said Mr. Pym, ‘and he’s the one that matters. The others are docile enough. I’ll get a keeper to retrieve the hand at once.’
‘No you won’t,’ said Cribb. ‘That’s all the evidence I’ve got. I’m not having it snatched out like a piece of rejected meat. It’s got to be handled delicate-by a professional. Thackeray. . s›. . !s›. . !s›.’
‘Sergeant?’
‘Have you got your gloves with you?’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘Good. All you’ll want is a large brown envelope and a lamp to see you don’t put your foot on anything. Here’s a bull’s-eye for you. Can you supply the stationery, Mr. Pym?’
‘Why yes, but do you think-‘ ‘Think? Thackeray’s a man of action, trained to do his thinking afterwards. You’re game, Constable, ain’t you?’ He’s coped with worse than this in his time, gentlemen. Round the back you go with Mr. Pym, Thackeray. You don’t have to climb in from here, you know. Careful how you handle the evidence, mind.’
It was probably a distortion caused by the uneven lighting, but momentarily Thackeray appeared to regard his superior with the same disaffected stare that was present in the eyes of the creatures he was about to join. Then he followed Mr. Pym through a door which he unlocked beside the entrance.
Presently there was the sound of unbolting at the rear of the tank.
‘Hold it, Thackeray!’ called Cribb. ‘One of ’em’s on the move. Give him a moment to settle down.’
