“This ain’t a game, sir. But since we’re talking about the when and the where of it, where were you when the first murder was committed at Hurley?”
“If you want an answer to that, you had better remind me when it happened,” said Humberstone, cocking his head provokingly.
“On Tuesday night.”
“An age ago.”
“In the Barley Mow you said you put up at the Crown in Marlow, just as the characters in the book did. No, I’m doing you an injustice. Mr. Gold said that. You were silent on the matter.”
Humberstone nodded. For the first time in the interview, a look of caution flickered across his face. “Gold is usually very authoritative on matters of detail.”
“He wasn’t too convincing on the location of the Crown,” said Cribb. “Didn’t seem to know whether it was beside the river or at the top of the High Street. Are you sure you stayed there, sir?”
“That’s a question you should address to Sammy Gold, not me.”
“It doesn’t matter, sir. I’ve got a man checking the register of guests.”
“Then you’ll get your answer.”
Cribb changed tack. “Did you know Mr. Bonner-Hill, by any chance?”
“What makes you think that I should?” said Humberstone, smiling again.
“Be so good as to answer my question,” said Cribb more firmly.
“No, I did not know Bonner-Hill. When you mentioned the name just now, it was the first time I had ever heard of it.”
“You’re sure of that, Mr. Humberstone?”
“Do you doubt me, Sergeant?”
“I’m a little puzzled, sir. I thought you might have come across the name. It’s not a very common one. I met his widow this afternoon. She told me his life was insured with the Providential.”
“Ah.” Humberstone leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. “You supposed that the name ought to be on the tip of my tongue, together with the million and a half others who insure with the Providential. If you suppose we spend our time reciting the names of our policy holders, you have a very mistaken impression of what goes on in a city insurance office, Sergeant. For one thing, policyholders’ names are kept confidential and for another, my companions and I are employed in the Claims Department. Bonner-Hill’s name would not be drawn to our attention until a claim is lodged. From what you tell me, we can expect to deal with it when we return to the office a week on Monday.”
“Possibly,” said Cribb. “For the present, you’re returning to the cells.”
CHAPTER
24
Mr. Lucifer’s cautionary tale—The perils of poker—The demon and the dance
LUCIFER, WHEN HE APPEARED in a dressing gown before Cribb, was in no mood for verbal sparring. A muscle at the side of his mouth was in spasm, providing fulsome views of his teeth, and his eyebrows were rearing up like dogs on chains.
“No, I shall not sit down. I have not been so humiliated in all my life. A cell for common criminals! You shall hear more of this, my man. I propose to use every process of the law that is open to me to see that innocent members of the public are protected from such vile experiences as this.” He stepped towards the desk and glared at his inquisitor. “I remember you, by thunder! You’re the person who was sitting in the Barley Mow the other evening. You didn’t tell us you were a policeman then.”
“No,” said Cribb. “I didn’t mention it. I suppose I could have put on my helmet and whistled If you want to know the time, ask a p’liceman, but it’s not encouraged when you’re on plain clothes duty. Shall we begin, sir? It’s getting late and I hope to get some sleep tonight. I’ve been talking to Mr. Humberstone. He told me a little about the way things work in your insurance office. Have you always worked with the Providential, sir?”
“Am I obliged to answer these questions?”
“Not at all, sir. If you’re innocent, it might help to convince me of the fact, but if you’re guilty, you can only make things worse for yourself by speaking up. I should definitely not say a word if you have anything to hide.”
The look Lucifer returned showed no gratitude for this advice, but he was unable to ignore its implications. He said, “I joined the Providential after I left school in eighteen seventy.”
“And when did you join the Claims Department?”
“That was six years ago. Humberstone and I were transferred together from Fire and Accident. Gold was already working there.”
“And you soon became friends?”
“We shared the same office,” said Lucifer, not only answering the questions, but beginning to be expansive. “One learns in the first place to tolerate people. Later, a kind of understanding develops. Only in the last six months has it grown into anything resembling a friendship.”
“This trip on the river, sir. Who suggested it?”
“I am not at all certain. The notion arose from our interest in Three Men in a Boat, as I believe we mentioned at Clifton Hampden. I recollect that we were saying that not one of us had got out of London all the summer and perhaps we had become a trifle jaded. We were staring at each other across our desks, each of us, I suppose, hoping he did not look so jaded as the others, when someone—it was Gold, now I call it to mind—said, ‘Let’s go up the river.’ To tell the truth, I don’t believe he meant it. He was quoting the words of George in Chapter One. It was intended as a droll remark, nothing more. Humberstone took it literally, said, ‘Yes, by Jove, let’s do the trip they did in the book!’—and we all agreed it was a first-class suggestion.”
“It was Gold who sowed the seed, then,” said Cribb.
Lucifer’s mouth twitched again. “I’m not sure what you are implying.”
“No matter, sir. The three of you embarked on the trip on Monday. I presume you set out from Kingston.”
“That is so. We followed the itinerary in the book. We camped at Picnic Point that night and rowed up to Marlow on Tuesday.”
“And put up at the Crown?” Cribb mildly suggested.
Lucifer hesitated.
“That was what Mr. Gold said in the Barley Mow,” pressed Cribb.
“He must have been mistaken,” said Lucifer. “It is a pardonable error. We certainly proposed spending the night at the Crown. We had it firmly fixed in our minds that the characters in the book stayed there, so it is not surprising that Gold should have committed a slip of the tongue. When Marlow is mentioned, any person familiar with the book thinks of the Crown. It is as simple as that.”
“Was it full when you got there?”
“We did not actually get to the Crown. It was late when we reached Marlow, and we were tired. It’s a pull of nearly twenty miles from Runnymede to Marlow. We took rooms at a private lodging house, the first we could find.”
“Would you remember the address, sir?”
“I’m quite certain I wouldn’t,” answered Lucifer. “I might be able to find the place again if I was in Marlow, but I’m not even confident of that. It was dusk, you see. Is this salient to your inquiry?”
Cribb ignored the question. “These, er, ladies you were visiting on the houseboat today. Had you made their acquaintance before this evening?”
Lucifer coughed behind his handcuffs. “This afternoon, to be precise. We were taking a constitutional through Christ Church Meadow. They were having a picnic on the grass. We raised our hats and smiled, and they invited us to join them. It seemed a jolly thing to do in the sunshine of a September afternoon. The thought crossed my mind that they might be some of the blue-stockinged invaders of the University one hears so much about these days. I believe there are quaint little villas here and there in Oxford with exalted names like Lady Margaret Hall purporting to provide young ladies with a university education, so it was not impossible that these three picnickers had anticipated the beginning of term by a few days. When the conversation started, I modified my theory somewhat. Don’t misunderstand me—there was nothing indelicate in what they said. The accents, you know—definitely not University.
Yet they were very agreeable company. After the picnic we promenaded along the footpath with them, looking at the barges. Presently one of the young ladies, the one called Moll, pointed out their houseboat and suggested we might like to go aboard. We had really proposed spending the afternoon touring the colleges, but Humberstone and Gold agreed with me that it would be discourteous to refuse the invitation, and anyway one college was very like another and we could safely leave out one or two from our itinerary in the interests of discovering what it was like aboard a houseboat. They took us to a small rowing boat nearby, and we went out in two parties.”
“What time was that?” Cribb asked.
“Oh, early in the afternoon. Before two o’clock, I should say.”
“I had every copper in Oxford looking for you and there you were sitting in a blooming houseboat. What happened after that?”
“They showed us over the boat. It was comfortably furnished, but, of course, rooms are at a premium aboard a vessel of that sort, so the sitting room served a secondary purpose as their bedroom, which might have given rise to embarrassment if they had not been so splendidly unconcerned about the matter. They suggested a game of cards. Humberstone and Gold enjoy a hand of poker and offered to teach the game to two of the girls, Moll and Meg, while I went on the upper deck with Towser to take a look at the view. I rather disapprove of cards. There was a canvas chair up there and I suppose I fell asleep in the sun, because when I next looked at my watch it was gone five o’clock. I rejoined the others and found them eating oysters. The game of poker had ended in victory for the ladies, who must have learned the rudiments of the game with remarkable speed. Gold had lost seven shillings and Humberstone nearly ten, so when somebody suggested we ought to have champagne to accompany the oysters, I felt obliged to row ashore and bring back a magnum of Mumm’s and a bottle of gin from a public house near Folly Bridge. That was a mistake, I now realize.”
“How was that, sir?”
“The girls were manifestly unused to strong drink. I am a teetotaller myself and I should have realized the danger. During my absence they had produced a concertina from somewhere and Humberstone, who is quite a virtuoso, was playing it. Towser was locked in the galley, whining mournfully. After one glass of champagne the young lady called Meg pulled me out of my chair and pinioned me with her arms in such a way that I was obliged to perform a dance with her. It was a most distracting experience, I assure you.”
“I believe you,” said Cribb.
“I think that possibly my companions were a little shamed at having lost at poker to novices. They rather enjoyed the spectacle of me, the friend who had declined to play cards, suffering indignities of my own. Within a short time, however, Gold was prised from his seat by the other two young ladies and compelled to join in a waltz. It started as a waltz and ended in a gallop, for Humberstone, wretched fellow, increased the tempo of the music until our heads were spinning. I confess that we ended by collapsing in a heap on one of the beds. For a short time I was unable to focus my eyes with any certainty, but, oddly enough, the ladies seemed not at all distressed. On the contrary, they exhibited such exuberance that the thought crossed my mind that the gyrations of the dance must have generated some mysterious force, on the principle of the electric dynamo. Before I could draw breath, my jacket and waistcoat were removed and I had the greatest difficulty in dissuading Meg from parting me from my shirt as well. My colleague Gold, I discovered at this point, is susceptible to tickling. He was laughing uncontrollably as his partner grappled with him, which encouraged the ladies to believe we were enjoying the experience.”
“You were not?” said Cribb.
By way of response, Mr. Lucifer straightened his back, drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils and looked at the ceiling.
“You protested, then?”
“I am afraid not. The possibility of an effective protest was undermined by Gold being so convulsed with laughter. Fortunately, that particular crisis passed eventually with the ladies getting out of breath and asking for another drink. By this time my nerves were in such an agitated state that I decided to set aside my temperance principles to the extent of half a glass of champagne. I must own that my memory of the next two hours is somewhat patchy. Certain things I can still see quite vividly—”
“I can imagine, sir. Constable Thackeray saw plenty when he opened the trapdoor. Two women in their undergarments and a third wearing only a dressing gown.”
Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. “It must have come as a shock to an outsider. I am afraid that we failed those young ladies. As gentlemen, we should never have introduced them to the influence of the grape. It is a demon, Officer, and I hope for your sake that it never holds you in its thrall. And to think that by going out to purchase gin and champagne, I was the devil’s agent! If only we had adhered to our original plan of spending the afternoon visiting the colleges! It grieves me to think of the blushes of Meg and her friends when they are sufficiently sober to remember this evening and the shameful encouragement they got from three respectable employees of the Providential Assurance Company.”
The man was either a simpleton or a humbug. “They were ladies of the town, sir. Common prostitutes.”
Lucifer’s jaw dropped. “Good God! In Oxford?”
“By your own account they took seventeen shillings from your friends at poker and the price of two bottles of drink from you. How much else did they collect from you? Speak up, Mr. Lucifer.”
His face performed contortions again.
“How much to take off their clothes?” Cribb asked.
“A shilling a garment from each of us,” Lucifer managed to say.
Cribb whistled. “Just as well you’re going to spend the rest of the night here. You can’t have much left for a hotel. Take him down, Constable, and bring up Mr. Gold.”
CHAPTER
25
The cocoa treatment—Russian Gold—Fried kidneys and Great Tom
A STEAMING MUG OF COCOA was waiting on the table when Gold arrived, an indication if he had known it that he was to get a different style of interview from his fellows.
“Unlock the handcuffs, Constable,” ordered Cribb. “I don’t expect any unpleasantness. My word, sir, you have been in the wars.”
The right-hand lens of Gold’s spectacles had shattered. The fragments of glass were held in the frame, quite uselessly, for the spaces between the cracks were frosted over. There was also an ugly bruise above his right eyebrow. “No complaints, Officer,” he quickly said. “My own fault entirely. Should never have panicked on the houseboat. Got too close to Humberstone, you know, and found his elbow in my eye.”
“Try the cocoa, sir. If you’d like cold milk to take the heat off, say the word. I wouldn’t like to burn your tongue as well. I thought you might have got cold, sitting in the cells in a bathrobe. I’m Sergeant Cribb from Scotland Yard, making inquiries into the death of a man at Hurley last Tuesday night. I met you briefly at the Barley Mow the other evening.”
“So you did!” said Gold. “I say, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at once, Sergeant. I thought I knew the voice, but I can’t see too famously like this. I blame nobody, mind. The death of a man, you say. That tramp, I take it. Somebody mentioned him at Clifton Hampden.”
“That’s right, sir. And since we spoke, there’s been another death. A don from Merton College was picked out of the water here in Oxford this morning.”
“You don’t say!”
“They were both murdered, sir.”
“By Jove!”
“You and your friends have been arrested on suspicion of murdering them both.”
“I say, that’s a bit thick. I’ve never heard of either of them.”
“I didn’t mention their names,” said Cribb.
“So you didn’t.” Mr. Gold put the mug of cocoa to his lips and said, “Lord! I’ve done it! Burnt my tongue.”
“Vicious stuff, hot cocoa, if you ain’t used to it,” said Cribb, pouring milk into the mug. “You do
n’t mind personal questions, do you, sir? What’s your name in full?”
Gold dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief and said, “Samuel Isaac Gold.”
“And your father’s name?”
“Leonard Gold. What’s my father got to do with it?”
“Nothing, I hope. Born in England, was he?”
Gold frowned. “You want to know if I’m Jewish, is that it?”
“I’m asking where your father came from, Mr. Gold.”
Gold spread out his hands. “So he came from Russia. Does that make me a murderer?”
“Russia. What was his name in Russia?”
“What’s this about? I told you my father’s name. Gold is my name. If you want to call me Jewish, I won’t stop you, but leave my father out of it. It’s the same all over the world. If there’s trouble, blame the Jews. Jack the Ripper is a Jew, did you know? That’s what they say in Whitechapel. Who am I to argue, with a name like Sammy Gold?”
“Your father didn’t change his name when he came to England?”
“What is it to you if he did?” Gold bitterly replied. “He was a good man and he died ten years ago. The name on his stone is Leonard Gold.”
“As you say, sir.” Cribb steered the conversation into calmer waters. “I was speaking to Mr. Humberstone not long ago. He paid you a compliment, sir. Said you were a great authority on matters of detail, or something of the sort. We were talking about last Tuesday, the night you stayed in Marlow. The Crown, wasn’t it?”
“The Crown,” Gold repeated flatly.
“You don’t sound quite so positive as you were in the Barley Mow, sir. It was the Crown where you stayed, was it? Big hotel at the top of the High Street. Mentioned in Three Men in a Boat.”
“As you say. Chapter Twelve. The way Jerome puts it, you’d think it was beside the bridge.” Gold took off his spectacles and started polishing the good lens with his handkerchief. “I have a confession, Sergeant. A Jew with a confession—what do you say to that? We didn’t stay at the Crown.”
Swing, Swing Together Page 12
