The Tick of Death

The force of the explosion was indicated by the number of seconds the rain of debris lasted. Some of it must have blown two hundred feet in the air. Cribb turned off the engine and waited. When he raised the lid of the conning-tower, the water was black with Thames mud. Here and there, small splinters of white wood broke the still turbulent surface.

He looked for Rossanna and saw her cloak fanned out in the water not twenty yards from the boat. There was no sign of anyone else.

‘Take charge, Thackeray!’ he called down. He climbed up and dived from the conning-tower. He struck out with his powerful breast-stroke and soon had his hand on the cloak. Rossanna was underneath, on the point of sinking, too exhausted to continue the struggle. She had done amazingly well to stay afloat so long in her sodden clothes.

Holding her firmly around the diaphragm, he tugged the cloak free of her face and unfastened the bow at her neck. It had very likely saved her from being burnt and scarred in the deluge that followed the explosion. Strands of copper-coloured hair were adhering to her face, and he carefully lifted them clear and tilted her head to aid respiration. Then, moving his hands under her arms from the back, he placed them on her shoulders and drew her against his chest, in the life-saving position advocated by Lieutenant Torkington in his Swimming Drill, and taught to such members of the Force as volunteered for aquatic training. He employed his legs to good effect, drawing the exhausted Rossanna easily through the water towards the submarine boat.

It was a shade disheartening to reach there and find that Thackeray had not had the foresight to put out the ladder from the conning-tower. He waited, treading water. After a quarter of a minute, he took a firm grip on Rossanna with his left hand, and thumped with his right on the metal hull.

There was no response from Thackeray. Blast it, the man must have fallen asleep again!

He changed his grip, and saw that Rossanna’s eyes were open. ‘Soon have you aboard, I hope,’ he told her.

‘The launch,’ she said. ‘Is it. .?’

‘Nothing left of it, Rossanna. What happened?’

‘I saw them shooting at the submarine boat and I thought of all the dynamite in it, and my father helpless inside, and I couldn’t bear it. I picked up a cake of dynamite from the case that was on the deck and dropped it in the bucket Patrick was using for the stoking. Then I jumped in the water.’

‘You’re lucky to be alive.’

‘Is my Father well?’

Cribb raised his eyebrows. ‘But I gave you my word.’

‘Of course.’ Rossanna smiled.

‘All right, mate, give us your hand, whoever you are,’ called a sergeant of Thames Division, as their launch drew alongside. ‘My mate says its Captain Webb, but I’ve got my money on Captain Nemo.’

Cribb helped Rossanna up, and then allowed himself to be hauled from the water. He wiped the worst of the mud from his face and smoothed down his hair.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I am Detective-Sergeant Cribb of Great Scotland Yard.’

‘Well that bloody well beats everything!’ said the sergeant.

INSPECTOR JOWETT REFILLED HIS pipe, stood up, walked thoughtfully to the window, was reminded that it was still boarded up from the Great Scotland Yard explosion, turned and resumed his seat. ‘Truly an amazing story, Sergeant,’ he said, lighting the pipe. ‘I would have found it difficult to credit if I had not been down to Swanscombe Marshes myself to see where the submarine boat ran aground.’

‘Ah, that was the result of a misunderstanding, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘Thames Division thought that Constable Thackeray was in control. He was asleep, sir. Effects of the chloral he was given. He can’t be blamed.’

‘My word, no!’ said Jowett. ‘I wouldn’t dream of blaming Thackeray. First-rate man. I knew he was dependable from the start, of course. In my position, you have to know your own men, by Jove. Fundamental to the job.’

‘So I believe, sir,’ said Cribb.

‘What you still haven’t explained to me is how you did it,’ Jowett continued.

‘Did what, sir?’

Jowett put another match to his pipe. ‘Well, you were given the job of constructing two identical infernal machines, one of which was to be used to demonstrate your skill as a dynamitard, while the other was afterwards put into the submarine boat. If I’ve understood your account of it correctly, you had no control over the selection of the bombs for these purposes, and the setting of the clocks was most stringently supervised.’

‘Quite correct, sir.’

‘So you couldn’t have interfered with the machines after you had made them.’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘Yet the gazebo was blown to bits, while the bomb in the submarine boat failed to detonate. That’s either extraordinary good luck or so ingenious that the explanation eludes me. I repeat, how did you do it?’

Cribb hesitated, tugging his side-whiskers, knowing, as conjurers do, that explanations add nothing to spectacular effects. He really could not refuse to answer Jowett’s question, however. ‘Well, sir. It was very simple. When I built the machines I made sure that neither of ’em would work. I carefully removed all the powder from the cartridges the pistols fired. So they couldn’t go off, you see?’

‘Frankly, I don’t,’ said Jowett. ‘One of them destroyed the gazebo, so it must have gone off.’

‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Cribb apologetically. ‘That box is probably still lying intact at the bottom of the lake. It was a straightforward charge of dynamite that blew up the gazebo. I removed a couple of bricks from the underside of one of the arches above the water and stuffed in several discs of Atlas Powder. Then I attached a piece of slow-match- that’s a slow-burning fuse, sir-and gave it an hour. It was slightly late in working, but near enough to be convincing. That’s a far more reliable way of blowing up a gazebo than using clocks and detonators nine feet under the water.’

‘So that was it,’ said Jowett, with disappointment in his voice. ‘I thought it must be something cleverer than that.’

Cribb stoically accepted the rebuke. He watched Jowett make another attempt to light his pipe, before saying, ‘I was rather wondering if you had any idea what would happen to Miss McGee and her father, sir.’

Jowett shook his head. ‘Not much at all, Sergeant. From what you have told me, the major criminals perished in the explosion. Between you and me, there are reasons why it might be necessary to keep this case out of the courts altogether. The-er-party on the Hildegarde were blissfully unaware that the submarine boat was full of dynamite, and it is probably best all round if they remain unenlightened on that point. There is not much to be gained from bringing a helpless cripple like McGee before a judge, and his daughter seems to have played quite an insignificant part in the proceedings, from what you say. We’ll keep an eye on her through the Special Branch, of course. Got to give those fellows something to occupy them, eh?’

‘I suppose so, sir,’ conceded Cribb, a little wistfully.

‘I’ve got some capital news for you, though,’ Jowett went on. ‘Your work in this affair has not gone unrecognised, Cribb.’

‘Really, sir?’

‘Depend upon it, if a man in my charge does something as creditable as you have done, it gets reported to higher quarters.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Yes, the Commissioner himself has heard about your exploits, and I believe he is more than a little impressed. He has gone so far as to make a personal recommendation, Cribb.’

Cribb came smartly to attention.

‘He has recommended-and, of course, it has been agreed by myself-that you be relieved from normal duties for the next three weeks to complete the explosives course at Woolwich Arsenal, which you had to leave prematurely. Congratulations! You will know more about explosives than anyone at Scotland Yard, Sergeant. You start tomorrow morning, at the point where you left off. Craters, I believe, and the effects of-’

‘Blast,’ said Cribb, with feeling.