Chapter 3. ANOTHER MAN

Tower,andbytheDocksdownbyRatcliffe,andbyRotherhithedownbywhereaccumulatedscumofhumanityseemedtobewashedfromhighergrounds,likesomuchmoralsewage,andtobepausinguntilitsownweightforceditoverthebankandsunkitintheriver.Inandoutamongvesselsthatseemedtohavegotashore,andhousesthatseemedtohavegotafloat—amongbow-splitsstaringintowindows,andwindowsstaringintoships—thewheelsrolledon,untiltheystoppedatadarkcorner,river-washedandotherwisenotwashedatall,wheretheboyalightedandopenedthedoor. ‘Youmustwalktherest,sirit’snotmanyyards.’Hespokeinthesingularnumber,totheexpressexclusionofEugene. ‘Thisisaconfoundedlyout-of-the-wayplace,’saidMortimer,slippingoverthestonesandrefuseontheshore,astheboyturnedthecornersharp. ‘Here’smyfather’s,sirwherethelightis.’ Thelowbuildinghadthelookofhavingoncebeenamill.Therewasarottenwartofwooduponitsforeheadthatseemedtoindicatewherethesailshadbeen,butthewholewasveryindistinctlyseenintheobscurityofthenight.Theboyliftedthelatchofthedoor,andtheypassedatonceintoalowcircularroom,whereamanstoodbeforearedfire,lookingdownintoit,andagirlsatengagedinneedlework.Thefirewasinarustybrazier,notfittedtothehearthandacommonlamp,shapedlikeahyacinth-root,smokedandflaredintheneckofastonebottleonthetable.Therewasawoodenbunkorberthinacorner,andinanothercornerawoodenstairleadingabove—soclumsyandsteepthatitwaslittlebetterthanaladder.Twoorthreeoldscullsandoarsstoodagainstthewall,andagainstanotherpartofthewallwasasmalldresser,makingaspareshowofthecommonestarticlesofcrockeryandcooking-vessels.Theroofoftheroomwasnotplastered,butwasformedoftheflooringoftheroomabove.This,beingveryold,knotted,seamed,andbeamed,gavealoweringaspecttothechamberandroof,andwalls,andfloor,alikeaboundinginoldsmearsofflour,red-lead(orsomesuchstainwhichithadprobablyacquiredinwarehousing),anddamp,alikehadalookofdecomposition. ‘Thegentleman,father.’ Thefigureattheredfireturned,raiseditsruffledhead,andlookedlikeabirdofprey. ‘You’reMortimerLightwoodEsquireareyou,sir?’ ‘MortimerLightwoodismyname.Whatyoufound,’saidMortimer,glancingrathershrinkinglytowardsthebunk‘isithere?’ ‘’Tain’tnottosayhere,butit’scloseby.Idoeverythingreg’lar.I’vegiv’noticeofthecircumstarncetothepolice,andthepolicehavetookpossessionofit.Notimeain’tbeenlost,onanyhand.Thepolicehaveputintoprintalready,andhere’swhattheprintsaysofit.’ Takingupthebottlewiththelampinit,hehelditnearapaperonthewall,withthepoliceheading,BODYFOUND.Thetwofriendsreadthehandbillasitstuckagainstthewall,andGafferreadthemasheheldthelight. ‘Onlypapersontheunfortunateman,Isee,’saidLightwood,glancingfromthedescriptionofwhatwasfound,tothefinder. ‘Onlypapers.’ Herethegirlarosewithherworkinherhand,andwentoutatthedoor. ‘Nomoney,’pursuedMortimer‘butthreepenceinoneoftheskirt-pockets.’ ‘Three.Penny.Pieces,’saidGafferHexam,inasmanysentences. ‘Thetrouserspocketsempty,andturnedinsideout.’ GafferHexamnodded.‘Butthat’scommon.Whetherit’sthewashofthetideorno,Ican’tsay.Now,here,’movingthelighttoanothersimilarplacard,‘hispocketswasfoundempty,andturnedinsideout.Andhere,’movingthelighttoanother,‘herpocketwasfoundempty,andturnedinsideout.Andsowasthisone’s.Andsowasthatone’s.Ican’tread,norIdon’twanttoit,forIknow‘embytheirplacesonthewall.Thisonewasasailor,withtwoanchorsandaflagandG.F.T.onhisarm.Lookandseeifhewarn’t.’ ‘Quiteright.’ ‘Thisonewastheyoungwomaningreyboots,andherlinenmarkedwithacross.Lookandseeifshewarn’t.’ ‘Quiteright.’ ‘Thisishimashadanastycutovertheeye.Thisisthemtwoyoungsisterswhattiedthemselvestogetherwithahandkecher.Thisthedrunkenoldchap,inapairoflistslippersandanightcap,wothadoffered—itafterwardscomeout—tomakeaholeinthewaterforaquarternofrumstoodaforehand,andkepttohiswordforthefirstandlasttimeinhislife.Theyprettywellpaperstheroom,youseebutIknow‘emall.I’mscholarenough!’ Hewavedthelightoverthewhole,asiftotypifythelightofhisscholarlyintelligence,andthenputitdownonthetableandstoodbehinditlookingintentlyathisvisitors.Hehadthespecialpeculiarityofsomebirdsofprey,thatwhenheknittedhisbrow,hisruffledcreststoodhighest. ‘Youdidnotfindalltheseyourselfdidyou?’askedEugene. Towhichthebirdofpreyslowlyrejoined,‘Andwhatmightyournamebe,now?’ ‘Thisismyfriend,’MortimerLightwoodinterposed‘MrEugeneWrayburn.’ ‘MrEugeneWrayburn,isit?AndwhatmightMrEugeneWrayburnhaveaskedofme?’ ‘Iaskedyou,simply,ifyoufoundalltheseyourself?’ ‘Iansweryou,simply,moston‘em.’ ‘Doyousupposetherehasbeenmuchviolenceandrobbery,beforehand,amongthesecases?’ ‘Idon’tsupposeatallaboutit,’returnedGaffer.‘Iain’toneofthesupposingsort.Ifyou’dgotyourlivingtohauloutoftherivereverydayofyourlife,youmightn’tbemuchgiventosupposing.AmItoshowtheway?’ Asheopenedthedoor,inpursuanceofanodfromLightwood,anextremelypaleanddisturbedfaceappearedinthedoorway—thefaceofamanmuchagitated. ‘Abodymissing?’askedGafferHexam,stoppingshort‘orabodyfound?Which?’ ‘Iamlost!’repliedtheman,inahurriedandaneagermanner. ‘Lost?’ ‘I—I—amastranger,anddon’tknowtheway.I—I—wanttofindtheplacewhereIcanseewhatisdescribedhere.ItispossibleImayknowit.’Hewaspanting,andcouldhardlyspeakbut,heshowedacopyofthenewly-printedbillthatwasstillwetuponthewall.Perhapsitsnewness,orperhapstheacc