connection at least between Winthrop and his killer, even if not with Arledge. And he must find out more about Arledge.
He increased his pace, and reached the station with a sense of urgency.
The duty sergeant looked up, his face anxious. “Mr. Pitt, sir, Mr. Farnsworth’s here to see you, sir. And Mr. Pitt …”
“Yes.”
“He looks proper put out, sir.”
“I imagine he is,” Pitt said wryly. “But thank you for telling me.” And he stopped and took a moment to steady himself and try to prepare in his mind what he would say.
He arrived at his office with his head still a blank, and pushed the door open.
Farnsworth was sitting in the easy chair. He did not rise as Pitt came in, but merely looked up at him, his face dark.
“Good morning, sir.” Pitt closed the door and walked over to the other chair.
“Hardly!” Farnsworth snapped. “Have you seen the newspapers? Headlines in every one of them, and not surprising. Two headless corpses in two weeks. We’ve got another Ripper, Pitt, and what are you doing about it? I’ll tell you this, I don’t intend to lose my position because you don’t catch the lunatic who’s running amok. For God’s sake, sit down, man! I’m getting a crick in my neck looking at you.”
Pitt sat down immediately.
“Well, what are you doing?” Farnsworth demanded again. “Who is Arledge anyway? What was he doing in the park in the middle of the night? Was he picking up a woman? Is that the link? Were both these men picking up prostitutes, and some insane creature with a puritanical mind got it into his head to execute a kind of mad vengeance on them?” He pulled a face, doubt and anger in his eyes. “Although usually men with that kind of fixation kill the women, not the men.”
“I don’t know,” Pitt admitted. “I’ve got Tellman out trying to find out who Arledge was, and everything we can about him.”
Farnsworth’s shoulders were stiff, pulling on the fine worsted of his coat.
“Tellman—Tellman? Is he good? I know that name …”
“Yes, he’s excellent,” Pitt said honestly.
“Ah—yes.” Farnsworth’s face lit with remembrance. “Drummond always spoke well of him. Bit rough, but intelligent, good at ordinary police work, knows his petty criminals. Good. Yes, use Tellman. What else?” He looked at Pitt with hard, accusing eyes, very clear light blue.
“I’ve got other men out searching the park, looking for any possible witnesses, although tonight will probably be better for that.”
“Tonight?” Farnsworth demanded with a frown. “You can’t afford to waste time until tonight, man. What’s the matter with you? For God’s sake, Pitt—can’t you see we are on the edge of another explosion of violence in the city? People are frightened. There is talk of anarchy, unrest, even murmurs of a republic. It’ll only take another string of unsolved murders like this and some revolutionary will strike a spark that will set London ablaze. You haven’t time to waste waiting around for evidence to come to you.” He thumped a tight fist into the arm of the chair, leaning forward in it uncomfortably. “We none of us have!”
“Yes sir, I am aware of that,” Pitt answered patiently. “But the most likely way for us to find a witness who may have seen something is to try those who are creatures of habit. The odd passerby who was there last night, and not ever before or again, we have no chance of finding unless they come to us. But those who go there regularly at that time will in all likelihood be there again tonight.”
“Yes, yes—I see.” Farnsworth was unable to relax, he still sat forward, all his muscles tight. “What else? You’ve got to do better than that. I don’t suppose anyone saw anything of value. This lunatic is certainly twisted, warped, mad—but that doesn’t mean he’s a fool. You’ve got to do a great deal more than hope, Pitt.” His voice rose and became sharper. “Abilene hoped with the Ripper—and look what happened to him!”
“He worked dammed hard too,” Pitt said defensively. He had not known Inspector Abilene personally, but he respected his efforts and knew he had done everything any man could to catch the Whitechapel murderer.
“And you had better work dammed hard too.” Farnsworth stared at him. “And something more. If you want to keep this office, we’ve got to get him.”
“I’ve also got men out trying to find out where the murder was committed,” Pitt added. Farnsworth was unreasonable. Even though Pitt understood the knowledge and the fear which drove him, it still angered him, though he could not afford to show it. It was a position he resented bitterly. There was no honor in placing a man so you could abuse his courage or his intelligence and leave him no recourse to retaliate, or even to defend himself. Now that he had power, he must make sure he did not do it so easily, regardless though Tellman might tempt him.
Did Farnsworth find him as irksome?
“What do you mean?” Farnsworth demanded, staring at Pitt. “Wasn’t he killed where he was found? How do you know?”
“No—no blood,” Pitt replied. “At the moment we don’t know if it was somewhere else in the park or a place entirely different, which could be anywhere.”
Farnsworth rose to his feet and began pacing the floor.
“What about Winthrop?” he demanded. “Wasn’t he killed in the boat? Isn’t that what you said before?”
“Yes—with his head over the side. We can’t prove that, but it seems extremely likely.”
Farnsworth stopped abruptly.
“Why?”
“Because there was a fresh nick in the wood of the boat corresponding in size, position and depth with where a
