Swing, Swing Together

recently bereaved. We insisted that he read the chapter aloud. We read it every day for a week, until the next issue of Home Chimes appeared. It was such a wonderful pick-me-up that we got through our work in half the time, and the claims department was soon known as the jolliest office in the Providential. Naturally we all bought a copy of the book as soon as it appeared and read it from cover to cover again. It followed quite without question that we arranged to take our holiday together on the Thames. We know every incident by heart, and consequently everything along the route has its interest, you see. By the way, Lucifer, one shouldn’t suggest that death and disaster are totally absent from the book.”

“Ah!” said Gold. “The dog in the water at Windsor.”

“No, I think Humberstone must be referring to the woman in the water at Pangbourne,” said Lucifer. “That unfortunate creature of sin who put an end to her troubles by drowning herself-like your tramp, I presume, Landlord. Are bodies often recovered from the river in these parts?”

“Occasionally, sir, occasionally. It’s more common the other side of Teddington, I believe, in the tidal river. The closer you get to London, the more unfortunates there are, you see. Women mostly, that have taken to a life of sin and come to regret it. I believe they jump off the bridges. I’d do the same if I was in their position, come to think of it, with that there Jack the Ripper stalking the streets murdering and mutilating those he finds.”

“The Ripper?” repeated Gold. “Hasn’t been heard of for months. Gone into retirement, in my opinion.”

“He obviously favours the winter for its dark nights and fog,” said Lucifer. “I have no doubt we shall hear of him again before the end of the year.”

“If the police were any good at their job, they’d have caught him long ago,” said Humberstone. “He leaves them enough clues. They even found the knife after one of the murders. A great long-bladed thing it was, with a wooden handle, and the blood still on it.”

Across the room Thackeray said confidentially to Harriet, “I think you ought to step outside for a bit, miss. This sort of conversation ain’t suitable for one of the fair sex.”

She had to make an effort to compose herself before replying. Thackeray’s suggestion had been kindly intended, no doubt, but what presumptions it made! “From what I have heard of Jack the Ripper’s doings,” she said, “my sex has more reason to be informed about him than yours. You may step outside if you like, but I shall remain.”

“Some say he took his own life after the murder in Miller’s Court,” Cribb was saying. “He spent at least an hour dissecting that unfortunate woman. It was the ultimate in his style of killing. There was nothing more dreadful he could do.”

“Yes, I am familiar with the theory,” said Lucifer, speaking with disquieting authority on this subject. “A man of his description is said to have drowned himself in the Thames a few days after. A very convenient occurrence, for it reassured the public that London was safe again and stopped the accusations of police ineptitude. My own belief is that Jack slaked his thirst for blood last winter, but it will be as irresistible as ever when the nights get long again. Would anyone care for another beer?”

“The conversation seems to have taken a morbid turn,” said Humberstone, pushing his glass towards Lucifer. “Whatever got us round to this subject?”

Cribb helpfully recapitulated. “Three Men in a Boat and a body in the river.”

“Who would have thought there was any connection at all between Jerome and the unspeakable Jack?” said Humberstone.

“It takes all sorts to make a world, eh?” said Gold. “Take any night last summer in London. There was Jerome under one roof writing a comic masterpiece and Jack under another brooding on murder and mutilation. Lord knows what was going on under all the other roofs.”

“Safest not to inquire,” said Cribb. “Mind, I don’t suppose it’s generally known that Three Men in a Boat is read aloud in a certain life insurance office, but if it hurts nobody, I don’t see that there’s anything offensive in it. Doing the river trip yourselves is a stunning idea, if I might say so, gentlemen. Are you following Jerome to the letter?”

“So far as we are able,” answered Lucifer. “He is disconcertingly ambiguous at times. In Chapter 18 you will find that the three sleep under canvas in the backwater at Culham. Next morning, two or three pages on, they wake up three miles downriver, for they proceed to pass through Clifton Lock.”

“Perhaps Jerome had a drink too many in the Barley Mow,” suggested Cribb. “But do you propose spending the night at Culham?”

“Most certainly. Like the characters in the book, we want to be in Oxford as early as we can tomorrow. We shall have to leave here in half an hour.”

“I don’t suppose you have a dog like the one in the book,” said Cribb.

“Oh, but we do. We borrowed one for the excursion from a friend of Gold’s. It answers to the name of Towser, which is a poor substitute for Montmorency, but we have problems enough persuading the beast that we are well-intentioned, without altering its name. The skiff, so far as we can ascertain, is exactly similar to the one in the book. And we are visiting the same places, but we are not so slavish in our length of stay. You will remember that Jerome’s immortal trio spent two days at Streatley. One only was enough for us.”

“Why was that?”

“We saw all that there was to see in one morning. A pretty place, but not one to linger in.”

“Marlow’s got more to offer,” added Gold. “I’d have spent another night in Marlow gladly.”

“It’s very comfortable at the Crown, I gather,” said Cribb, seizing on this.

“Oh yes. Comfortable, indeed.”

“I’m trying to think which hotel the Crown is,” Cribb went on. “Is it the one near the bridge?”

“Tolerably near, yes,” Gold cautiously replied.

“With a good view of the river, from the best rooms, of course?”

“I don’t quite recall.” Gold hesitated, taking off his spectacles and replacing them as if that might improve his memory. “We had rooms at the back, you see, so you wouldn’t see the river from there.”

“If it’s the Crown at Marlow you’re talking about,” said the landlord, “you wouldn’t see the river wherever your room was. It’s at the top of the High Street.”

CHAPTER 15

A reluctant promenader-Introduction of forensic science-Towser makes his mark

“If we’re goin’ to take a walk by the river before sunset, we’d best be movin’,” said Hardy, his eyes transmitting something of mysterious significance.

Thackeray, baffled, put down his glass.

“My word, yes,” Harriet piped up. “We mustn’t leave it any later.”

With copious nodding and touching of hats, they took leave of the others in the parlour and stepped outside.

Thackeray immediately rounded on Hardy. “What’s this about? Haven’t we done enough walking? If you want to promenade along the towpath with Miss Shaw, then ask her straight out, but understand that I’m not playing the part of blooming chaperone. I’m in no condition to walk anywhere except up them stairs to a proper bed.”

“Hold on, Ted,” said Hardy. “You’ll get to that bed in good time, but there’s things to do before that. I hope we all understood what was going on in there just now.”

“Of course we did,” retorted Thackeray. “Cribb was drawing them out as the beer loosened their tongues. You can’t tell me nothing about his methods, young Hardy. I was working with him when you was running about in short trousers.”

“Please moderate your voices, gentlemen, or they’ll be coming out to see what’s going on,” warned Harriet. “Let’s walk at least a short way from the windows. Then perhaps one of you will enlighten me as to the significance of the conversation we just overheard.”

They started towards the river, Thackeray kicking petulantly at stones along the path, Harriet striving to recollect Miss Plummer’s advice on the management of difficult pupils.

“First, will you tell us if you recognized them, miss?” asked Hardy. “Can you positively say they were the