‘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.’
It was a long minute before the lanterns discerned a larger than average foot being lowered from a hinged flap on to the moss-covered rock. Thackeray’s stooping figure followed, envelope in one hand, lantern in the other.
‘There’s nothing in your way,’ Cribb quietly advised him, ‘but I shouldn’t be too long about it. Drugs can wear off, you know.’
A small crocodile, probably frightened, lowered itself into the water to the left with a splash and Thackeray completed the journey to the rocks at the front in two quick strides.
‘Splendid,’ said Cribb. ‘The big one ain’t moved a muscle yet. Now hook the hand up careful, man. Put your lantern down a moment, and get your envelope ready or you’ll be all fingers and thumbs, if you’ll forgive the expression in the circumstances. Careful, now. Ah! Neatly done! There’s Scotland Yard training for you, gentlemen. Back you go then, Thackeray. Remember the lantern and don’t get cocky now. The tails can be just as vicious as the teeth.’
At the Grafton Street police station they took a closer look at the evidence, which Thackeray had carried along the Marine Parade in its brown envelope like an excursionist clutching his packet of sandwiches. Cribb spread several sheets of white paper across Inspector Pink’s desk and they took the severed member out and placed it palm downwards for examination.
‘What’s your opinion, Thackeray?’
‘Blimey, Sarge, the cases don’t get no easier, do they? We’ve had our troubles trying to identify headless corpses, but I think this is the least we’ve ever had to go on.’ He leaned over it speculatively. ‘It’s a woman’s or a boy’s, I reckon. Too narrow for a man’s. And the nails look as though they was polished.’
‘Good. Anything else?’
There was a pause as Thackeray secretly studied the arrangement of his own fingers and thumbs. ‘It’s a right hand, Sarge.’
‘I’m bound to agree. Pity it wasn’t the left, or we might have found the mark of a wedding ring. What about the state of the fingers?’
Thackeray turned the hand over. ‘Well, there’s no blisters or hard skin here. I don’t think it’s done a lot of manual work. This don’t look like the hand of a seamstress or a factory girl. It could belong to a lady.’
‘Possibly,’ said Cribb. ‘What are your feelings on the matter, sir?’
Inspector Pink cleared his throat. ‘Lady? Yes, a lady. That’s good thinking, Constable. A lady. Yes, I’m bound to agree with you there. I think you’ve summed it up.’
‘You don’t think the hand can tell us anything else?’ said Cribb.
‘Ah! That’s another matter. I didn’t say that, did I? Oh no, not at all.’
‘What did you have in mind then, sir?’
‘In mind?’ Inspector Pink frowned. ‘You tell me what’s in your mind first, Sergeant. I wouldn’t want to steal the thunder of a Scotland Yard man.’
‘Well, sir, let’s take a look at the point where the wrist was severed.’
Thackeray and the inspector approached as closely as they felt able to.
‘Devilish powerful jaws these crocodiles have,’ the inspector remarked.
‘Now that’s just the point, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘I don’t believe this was done by a crocodile. It’s far too neat for that. I’m no authority on the species, but I’d expect a crocodile’s teeth to leave their shape on something they cut through, not a sur- face as clean as this. There ought to be some fluting in the cut, don’t you see-rather like the mark your teeth would leave on a crisp apple. I think the job was done with a sharp blade, a cleaver or something similar.’
‘By Jove, but that means-‘ ‘You’re right, sir-that the hand was cut from the body somewhere else and brought here to be thrown to the reptiles. And if you’ll give me ten minutes, your paper-knife and a good magnifying glass, I may be able to tell you where the cutting was done.’
In seconds the room took on the appearance of an operating theatre, with Thackeray in charge of the instruments- to which Cribb added a pair of tweezers from his pocket and a clean handkerchief-and Inspector Pink in attendance as a somewhat apprehensive onlooker.
‘I’ll need more light,’ Cribb said. ‘The table-lamp, if you please, Inspector. Spread the handkerchief here, Thackeray. Now, gentlemen, I propose scraping the undersides of the finger-nails. The paper-knife, please.’
After several minutes’ careful work a small deposit lay on the white linen.
‘Magnifying-glass. Thank you. Would you care to see for yourselves?’
‘Sand, by George!’ said the inspector. ‘She must have been on the beach.’
‘Probably,’ said Cribb. ‘But that ain’t much help, is it? Half the people in Brighton must have sand in their fingernails.’
‘Ah!’ said the inspector, in a significant tone. ‘Not your pure-bred ladies, though. They never go nearer the sea than the pier and the esplanade. The sand disposes of your theory that the hand belonged to a lady, Constable Thackeray.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Cribb, working at the point of severance with tweezers and magnifying glass. ‘There’s sand here too, adhering to the blood. I think the dismembering was done on the beach. The body-if we assume there was one-could have been dragged down there. Now look at these.’ He placed four or five tiny opalescent spheres on the handkerchief.
‘Fish scales, by Jupiter!’
‘I think so, sir. Now, am I right in assuming that the food given to the crocodiles-which included fish, I believe-is passed to them through the hatch at the rear of the tank?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘So it is most unlikely that these scales were picked up in the tank, remembering that the hand was at the front, in a place inaccessible to the crocodiles.’
‘Indeed, yes.’
‘There is a fish market somewhere along the beach, I seem to remember.’
‘That is so. Not ten minutes away from here.’
‘Capital! Thackeray and I will take another walk, then. I’m curious to see what implements they use for cutting the fish.’