Execution Dock - Anne Perry [15]
“Yes, sir.” Walters squared his shoulders. “We went down the Limehouse Reach, about level with Cuckold's Point, an’ there was a lighterman, a ferryman, and a couple o’ barges all anchored an’ waiting. One o’ the barges'd caught up the body of a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. The lighterman'd seen it and raised the cry. O’ course you can't stop a barge, still less a string of ‘em, all of a sudden, like. So they'd gone a good ‘undred yards or so before they threw out an anchor an’ got to look at what they ‘ad.” His voice sank even lower, and he was unable to keep the emotion out of it. “Poor kid was in an ‘ell of a mess. Throat cut right across, from one ear to the other, an’ been dragged an’ bashed around so it were a wonder ‘is ‘ead ‘adn't come off altogether. ‘E were caught in some ropes, otherwise, of course, he'd ‘ave gone out with the tide, an’ we'd never ‘ave found him before the sea an’ the fish ‘ad ‘im down to bone.”
On his high seat Sullivan winced and closed his eyes. Rathbone wondered if any of the jurors had seen that small gesture of revulsion or noticed that Sullivan was more than usually pale.
“Yes, I see.” Tremayne gave the tragedy of it full importance by waiting to make sure the court had time to dwell on it also. “What did you do as a result of this discovery?”
“We asked ‘em to tell us exactly what ‘appened, where they were when they reckoned the barge'd run onto the body, ‘ow far they'd dragged it without realizing …”
Sullivan frowned, looking sharply at Tremayne.
Tremayne saw it. “Mr. Walters, if they did not know the body was there, how could they have estimated how far they had dragged it?”
Rathbone hid a smile not because he was unamused by the irony of the arguments, and Tremayne's exactness, but because if he were seen to display any lack of horror or pity now it would work against him later.
“Because o’ the last time someone would ‘ave ‘ad to ‘ave seen it if it were there, sir,” Walters said grimly “If someone passed astern o’ you, they'd ‘ave seen.”
Tremayne nodded. “Precisely so. And how far had that been?”
“Around Horseferry Stairs. Passed a ferry going in, pretty close. Must ‘ave run afoul o’ the poor little begger some time after that.”
“Did you know who he was, this dead child?”
Walters winced, his face suddenly transformed by anger and pity. “No, sir, not then. There's thousands o’ children on the river, one way or the other.”
“Did you work on the case after that, Mr. Walters?”
“No, sir. It was mostly Mr. Durban hisself, and Mr. Orme.”
“Thank you. Please remain there, in case my learned friend, Sir Oliver, wishes to ask you anything.” Tremayne walked back across the open space of the floor and gestured an invitation to Rathbone.
Rathbone rose to his feet, thanked him, and walked calmly into the center of the court. Then he looked up at the witness stand to where Walters was waiting, his face heavy and apprehensive.
“Good morning, Mr. Walters,” he began. “I shall not detain you long. May I compliment you on the marvelous work the River Police do for us. I believe that in the nearly three quarters of a century that you have existed you have reduced crime on the river by a staggering amount. In fact, you solve more than ninety percent of the crimes you address, do you not?”
Walters straightened himself. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“You are rightly proud. It is a great service to Her Majesty, and to the people of London. Am I correct in thinking that the murder of this boy stirred a deep anger in you?”
“Yes, sir, you are. ‘E'd not only been murdered. From the burns on ‘is arms and body, ‘e'd been tortured as well.” Walters's face was ashen, his voice hoarse as though his throat were dry.
“It is very terrible,” Rathbone agreed. This was proceeding exactly as he had intended. Walters was a deeply sympathetic witness. “Was Mr. Durban similarly affected?” he went on. “Or perhaps I should more correctly ask you, what was Mr. Durban's manner, his reaction, when he saw the boy's corpse with his throat slashed open so his head hung