Arthur & George

'The blade was about so long.' She gestured: a foot or so, then. 'And it folded into a casing, like a giant pocket knife. It's not a farm instrument. But it was the blade that was the frightening thing. It had a curve in it.'

'You mean, like a scimitar? Or a sickle?'

'No, no, the blade itself was straight, and its edge wasn't sharp at all. But towards the end there was a part that curved outwards, which looked extremely sharp.'

'Could you draw it for us?'

'Certainly.' Mrs Greatorex pulled out a kitchen drawer, and on a piece of lined paper made a confident freehand outline:

'This is blunt, along here, and here as well, where it's straight. And there, where it curves, it's horribly sharp.'

Arthur looked at the others. Mr Greatorex and Harry shook their heads. Alfred Wood turned the drawing round so that it faced him and said, 'Two to one it's a horse lancet. Of the larger sort. I expect he stole it from the cattle ship.'

'You see,' said Mrs Greaterex, 'your friend is jumping to conclusions immediately. Just as the police would have done.'

This time Arthur could not hold back. 'Whereas instead they jumped to conclusions about George Edalji.' Mrs Greatorex's high colour returned at this remark. 'And forgive my asking, ma'am, but did you not think of telling the police about the instrument later – at the time they charged George?'

'I thought about it, yes.'

'But did nothing.'

'Sir Arthur,' replied Mrs Greatorex, 'I do not recall your presence in the district at the time of the maimings. There was widespread hysteria. Rumours about this person and that person. Rumours about a Great Wyrley Gang. Rumours that they were going to move on from animals to young women. Talk about pagan sacrifices. It was all to do with the new moon, some said. Indeed, now I recall, Royden's wife once told me he reacted strangely to the new moon.'

'That's true,' said her husband ruminatively. 'I noticed it too. He used to laugh like a maniac when the moon was new. I thought at first he was just putting it on, but I caught him doing it when no one was about.'

'But don't you see-' Arthur began.

Mrs Greatorex cut him off. 'Laughing is not a crime. Even laughing like a maniac.'

'But didn't you think…?'

'Sir Arthur, I have no great regard for the intelligence or the efficiency of the Staffordshire Constabulary. I think that is one thing we might be agreed upon. And if you are concerned about your young friend's wrongful imprisonment, then I was concerned about the same thing happening to Roy den Sharp. It might not have ended with your friend escaping gaol, but rather with both of them behind bars for belonging to the same gang, whether it existed or not.'

Arthur decided to accept the rebuke. 'And what about the weapon? Did you tell him to destroy it?'

'Certainly not. We haven't mentioned it from that day to this.'

'Then may I ask you, Mrs Greatorex, to continue in that silence for a few days more? And a final question. Do the names Walker or Gladwin mean anything to you – in connection with the Sharps?'

The couple shook their heads.

'Harry?'

'I think I remember Gladwin. Worked for a drayman. Haven't seen him in years, though.'

Harry was told to await instructions, while Arthur and his secretary returned to Birmingham for the night. More convenient accommodation at Cannock had been proposed; but Arthur liked to be confident of a decent glass of burgundy at the end of a hard day's work. Over dinner at the Imperial Family Hotel, he suddenly remembered a phrase from one of the letters. He threw his knife and fork down with a clatter.

'When the ripper was boasting of how nobody could catch him. He wrote, "I am as sharp as sharp can be."'

'"As Sharp as Sharp can be",' repeated Wood.

'Exactly.'

'But who was the foul-mouthed boy?'

'I don't know.' Arthur was rather downcast that this particular intuition had not been confirmed. 'Perhaps a neighbour's boy. Or perhaps one of the Sharps invented him.'

'So what do we do now?'

'We continue.'

'But I thought we'd – you'd – solved it. Royden Sharp is the ripper. Royden Sharp and Wallie Sharp together wrote the letters.'

'I agree, Woodie. Now tell me why it was Royden Sharp.'

Wood answered, counting off his fingers as he did so. 'Because he showed the horse lancet to Mrs Greatorex. Because the wounds the animals suffered, cutting the skin and muscle but not penetrating the gut, could only have been inflicted by such an unusual instrument. Because he had worked as a butcher and also on a cattle ship, and therefore knew about handling animals and cutting them up. Because he could have stolen the lancet from the ship. Because the pattern of the letters and the slashings matches the pattern of his presence and absence from Wyrley. Because there are clear hints in the letters about his movements and activities. Because he has a record of mischief. Because he is affected by the new moon.'

'Excellent, Woodie, excellent. A full case, well presented, and dependent on inference and circumstantial evidence.'

'Oh,' said the secretary, disappointed. 'Have I missed something?'

'No, nothing. Royden Sharp is our man, there's not the slightest doubt about it in my mind. But we need more concrete proof. In particular, we need the horse lancet. We need to secure it. Sharp knows we're in the district, and if he's any sense it will already have been thrown into the deepest lake he knows.'

'And if it hasn't?'

'If it hasn't, then you and Harry Charlesworth are going to stumble across it and secure it.'

'Stumble?'

'Stumble.'

'And secure it?'

'Indeed.'

'Have you any suggestions about our modus operandi?'

'Frankly, I think it would be better if I didn't know too much. But I imagine that it is still the custom in these parts of the country for people to leave their doors unlocked. And if it turns out to be a matter of negotiation, then I would suggest that the sum involved appear in the accounts for Undershaw in whichever column you choose to put it.'

Wood was rather irritated by this high-mindedness. 'Sharp is hardly likely to hand it over if we knock on his door and say, Excuse us, may we please buy the lancet you ripped the animals with, so that we can show it to the police?'

'No, I agree,' said Arthur with a chuckle. 'That would never do. You will need to be more imaginative, the two of you. A little more subtlety. Or, for that matter, a little more directness. One of you might distract him, perhaps in a public house, while the other… She did mention a cupboard in the kitchen, did she not? But really, I must leave it to you.'

'You will stand bail for me if required?'

'I will even give you a character witness.'

Wood shook his head slowly. 'I still can't get over it. This time last night we knew almost nothing. Or rather, we had a few suspicions. Now we know everything. All in a day. Wynn, Greatorex, Mrs Greatorex – and that's it. We may not be able to prove it, but we know it. And all in a day.'

'It's not meant to happen like this,' said Arthur. 'I should know. I've written it enough times. It's not meant to happen by following simple steps. It's meant to seem utterly insoluble right up until the end. And then you unravel the knot with one glorious piece of deduction, something entirely logical yet quite astounding, and then you feel a great sense of triumph.'

'Which you don't?'

'Now? No, I feel almost disappointed. Indeed, I do feel disappointed.'

'Well,' said Wood, 'you must permit a simpler soul a sense of triumph.'

'Willingly.'

Later, when Arthur had smoked his final pipe and turned in, he lay in bed reflecting on this. He had set himself a challenge, and today he had overcome it; yet he felt no exultation. Pride, perhaps, and that certain warmth when you take a rest from labour, but not happiness, let alone triumph.

He remembered the day he had married Touie. He had loved her, of course, and in that early stage doted on her entirely and could not wait for the marriage's consummation. But when they wed, at Thornton-in-Lonsdale with that fellow Waller at his elbow, he had felt a sense of… how could he put it without being disrespectful to her memory? He was happy only insofar as she had looked happy. That was the truth. Of course, later, as little as a day or two later, he began to experience the happiness he had hoped for. But at the moment itself, much less than he had anticipated.