said Jim quickly, and returning to Elk, conveyed the gist of the message.
‘Can’t these amacher detectives find things in the Lord’s bright sunlight?’ asked Elk bitterly. ‘Half-past nine and freezing like the devil: what a time to go snooping round canals!’
Yet he insisted upon going along with his companion.
‘You might miss something,’ he grumbled as the draughty taxi moved northward. ‘You ain’t got my power of observation and deduction. Anyway, I’ll bet we’re wasting our time. They’ll show us the hole in the water where she went in most likely.’
‘The canal is frozen,’ smiled Jim. ‘In fact, it’s been frozen since the day after the body was found.’
Mr Elk growled something under his breath; whether it was an uncomplimentary reference to the weather or to the tardiness of park-keepers, Jim did not gather.
It was not a keeper but an inspector who was waiting for them outside the Zoological offices. The discovery had been made that afternoon, but the keeper had not reported the matter until late in the evening. The inspector took a seat in their taxi and under his direction they drove back some distance to the place where a bridge crosses the canal to Avenue Road. Here the Circle roadway is separated from the canal by a fifty-foot stretch of grassland and trees. This verge, in summer, affords a playing ground for children, and has, from their point of view, the attraction of dipping down in a steep slope to the banks of the canal, which, however, is separated from the park by a row of wooden palings, wired to form an unclimbable fence. The playground is reached from the road by a broad iron gate running parallel with the bridge, and this, explained the park inspector, was locked at nights.
‘Occasionally somebody forgets,’ he said, ‘and I remember having it reported to me on the night after this woman’s disappearance, that the gates were found open in the morning.’
He led the way cautiously down the steep declivity towards the fence which runs by the canal bank. Here is a rough path and along this they trudged over ground frozen hard.
‘One of our keepers had to make an inspection of the fence this afternoon,’ the officer went on, ‘and we found that the palings had been wrenched from one of the supporting posts. Afterwards somebody must have put them up again and did the job so well that we have never noticed the break.’
They had now reached the spot, and a powerful light thrown along the fence revealed the extent of the damage.
A wire strand and one of the palings had been broken, and the officer had only to push lightly at the fence to send it sagging drunkenly towards the canal. He put his foot upon it and with a creak it lay over so that he could have walked without any difficulty on to the canal bank.
‘Our man thought that the damage had been done by boys, until he saw the hat.’
‘Which hat?’ asked Jim quickly.
‘I left it here for you to see, exactly as he found it.’
The superintendent’s light travelled along a bush, and presently focused upon a crushed brown object, which had been caught between two branches of the bush. Jim loosened the pitiable relic, a brown felt hat, stained and cut about the crown. It might easily, he saw, have been dragged off in a struggle, and against the autumnal colouring of the undergrowth would have escaped notice.
‘Here is another thing,’ said the park officer. ‘Do you see that? It was the first thing I looked for, but I have no doubt that you gentlemen will understand better than I what it signifies.’
It was the impress of a heel in the frozen ground. By its side a queer, flat footmark, criss-crossed with innumerable lines.
‘Somebody who wore rubbers,’ said Elk, going down on his knees. ‘There has been a struggle here. Look at the sideways thrust of that heel! And - ’
‘What is this?’ asked Jim sharply.
His lamp was concentrated upon a tiny, frozen puddle, and Elk looked but could see
‘Can’t these amacher detectives find things in the Lord’s bright sunlight?’ asked Elk bitterly. ‘Half-past nine and freezing like the devil: what a time to go snooping round canals!’
Yet he insisted upon going along with his companion.
‘You might miss something,’ he grumbled as the draughty taxi moved northward. ‘You ain’t got my power of observation and deduction. Anyway, I’ll bet we’re wasting our time. They’ll show us the hole in the water where she went in most likely.’
‘The canal is frozen,’ smiled Jim. ‘In fact, it’s been frozen since the day after the body was found.’
Mr Elk growled something under his breath; whether it was an uncomplimentary reference to the weather or to the tardiness of park-keepers, Jim did not gather.
It was not a keeper but an inspector who was waiting for them outside the Zoological offices. The discovery had been made that afternoon, but the keeper had not reported the matter until late in the evening. The inspector took a seat in their taxi and under his direction they drove back some distance to the place where a bridge crosses the canal to Avenue Road. Here the Circle roadway is separated from the canal by a fifty-foot stretch of grassland and trees. This verge, in summer, affords a playing ground for children, and has, from their point of view, the attraction of dipping down in a steep slope to the banks of the canal, which, however, is separated from the park by a row of wooden palings, wired to form an unclimbable fence. The playground is reached from the road by a broad iron gate running parallel with the bridge, and this, explained the park inspector, was locked at nights.
‘Occasionally somebody forgets,’ he said, ‘and I remember having it reported to me on the night after this woman’s disappearance, that the gates were found open in the morning.’
He led the way cautiously down the steep declivity towards the fence which runs by the canal bank. Here is a rough path and along this they trudged over ground frozen hard.
‘One of our keepers had to make an inspection of the fence this afternoon,’ the officer went on, ‘and we found that the palings had been wrenched from one of the supporting posts. Afterwards somebody must have put them up again and did the job so well that we have never noticed the break.’
They had now reached the spot, and a powerful light thrown along the fence revealed the extent of the damage.
A wire strand and one of the palings had been broken, and the officer had only to push lightly at the fence to send it sagging drunkenly towards the canal. He put his foot upon it and with a creak it lay over so that he could have walked without any difficulty on to the canal bank.
‘Our man thought that the damage had been done by boys, until he saw the hat.’
‘Which hat?’ asked Jim quickly.
‘I left it here for you to see, exactly as he found it.’
The superintendent’s light travelled along a bush, and presently focused upon a crushed brown object, which had been caught between two branches of the bush. Jim loosened the pitiable relic, a brown felt hat, stained and cut about the crown. It might easily, he saw, have been dragged off in a struggle, and against the autumnal colouring of the undergrowth would have escaped notice.
‘Here is another thing,’ said the park officer. ‘Do you see that? It was the first thing I looked for, but I have no doubt that you gentlemen will understand better than I what it signifies.’
It was the impress of a heel in the frozen ground. By its side a queer, flat footmark, criss-crossed with innumerable lines.
‘Somebody who wore rubbers,’ said Elk, going down on his knees. ‘There has been a struggle here. Look at the sideways thrust of that heel! And - ’
‘What is this?’ asked Jim sharply.
His lamp was concentrated upon a tiny, frozen puddle, and Elk looked but could see
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