Arthur & George

officers.
    ‘Campbell, you will have guessed why I asked you to come.’
    ‘I assume the mutilations, sir.’
    ‘Indeed. How many have we now had?’
    Campbell had rehearsed this part, but even so reached for his notebook.
    ‘February second, valuable horse belonging to Mr Joseph Holmes. April second, cob belonging to Mr Thomas ripped in exactly the same fashion. May fourth, a cow of Mrs Bungay’s similarly treated. Two weeks later, May eighteenth, a horse of Mr Badger’s terribly mutilated, and also five sheep on the same night. And then last week, June sixth, two cows belonging to Mr Lockyer.’
    ‘All at night?’
    ‘All at night.’
    ‘Any discernible pattern to events?’
    ‘All the attacks happened within a three-mile radius of Wyrley. And … I don’t know if it’s a pattern, but they all occurred in the first week of the month. Except for those of May eighteenth, which didn’t.’ Campbell was aware of Anson’s eye on him, and hurried on. ‘The method of ripping is, however, largely consistent from attack to attack.’
    ‘Consistently disgusting, no doubt.’
    Campbell looked at the Chief Constable, unsure if he did, or didn’t, want the details. He took silence for regretful assent.
    ‘They were ripped under the belly. Crosswise, and generally in a single cut. The cows … the cows also had their udders mutilated. And there was damage inflicted upon … upon their sexual parts, sir.’
    ‘It beggars belief, Campbell, doesn’t it? Such senseless cruelty to defenceless beasts?’
    Campbell pretended to himself that they were not sitting beneath the glassy eye and severed head of the elk or moose. ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘So we are looking for some maniac with a knife.’
    ‘Probably not a knife, sir. I spoke to the veterinary surgeon who attended the later mutilations – Mr Holmes’ horse was treated as an isolated incident at the time – and he was puzzled as to the instrument used. It must have been very sharp, but on the other hand it cut into the skin and the first layer of muscle and no further.’
    ‘So why not a knife?’
    ‘Because a knife – a butcher’s knife, say – would have gone deeper. At some point, anyway. A knife would have opened up the guts. None of the animals was actually killed in the attacks. Not at the time. They either bled to death or were in such a state when found that they had to be put down.’
    ‘So if not a knife?’
    ‘Something that cuts easily but shallowly. Like a razor. But with more strength than a razor. It could be a tool from the leather trade. Or a farm instrument of some kind. I would assume the man was accustomed to handling animals.’
    ‘Man or men. A vile individual, or a gang of vile individuals. And a vile crime. Have you come across it before?’
    ‘Not in Birmingham, sir.’
    ‘No, indeed.’ Anson gave a wan smile and fell briefly silent. Campbell allowed himself to think about the police horses in the Stafford stables: how alert and responsive they were, how warm and smelly and almost furry in their hairiness; how they twitched their ears and put their heads down at you; how they blew through their noses in a way that reminded him of a boiling kettle. What species of human could wish such an animal harm?
    ‘Superintendent Barrett remembers a case some years ago of a wretch who fell into debt and killed his own horse for the insurance. But a murderous spree like this … it seems so foreign. In Ireland, of course, the midnight houghing of the landlord’s cattle is practically part of the social calendar. But then, little would ever surprise me of a Fenian.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘It must be brought to a swift end. These outrages are blackening the reputation of the entire county.’
    ‘Yes, the newspapers –’
    ‘I do not give a fig about the newspapers, Campbell. I care about the honour of Staffordshire. I do not want it deemed the haunt of savages.’
    ‘No, sir.’ But the Inspector thought the Chief Constable must be aware of certain recent editorials, none of them complimentary, and some of them personal.
    ‘I would suggest you look into the history of crime in Great Wyrley and its environs in the last years. There have been some … peculiar goings-on. And I suggest you work with those who know the area best. There’s a very sound Sergeant, can’t remember his name. Large, red-faced fellow …’
    ‘Upton, sir?’
    ‘Upton, that’s it. He’s a man who keeps his ear close to the ground.’
    ‘Very well,