“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
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 don’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?”