"Colin Wilson - The Glass Cage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson Colin)

"Unfortunately, no. But no one but a madman would chop up the bodies the way he does."
Reade interrupted mildly. "My knowledge of criminal matters is not extensive, but I believe a
great many sane murderers have dismembered their victims."
"I know, sir. There was one down at Lancaster -- Ruxton. But he only killed two women -- his
wife and the maid. But can you think of anybody who went on doing it -- for fun? Nine of them?"
"No. I see your point."
Lund smiled grimly, then went back to the notebook. "Anyway, let me come to the point. At first
these murders didn't get a lot of attention, because the complete bodies weren't recovered. In the first
case they only found an arm and a leg. Both on the mud below Wapping. Might've been medical students
having a lark. But in August he left the complete body -- in several pieces -- all piled up outside a factory
wall in Salamanca Place -- a little street that runs off the Albert Embankment. And on a wall, about ten
yards away from the body, somebody had chalked up some words."
"And they were?"
Lund read from his notebook:

"Till his brain in a rock and his heart
In a fleshly slough formed four rivers
Obscuring the immense orb of fire."

Reade had leaped to his feet and exclaimed, "Good God!"
Lund lowered the notebook, smiling. He said, "I thought that might surprise you."
"My God! My God! Now I understand. Now I see why you came to me. But wait. . . How do
you know it was the murderer? May I see?"
In agitation he snatched the notebook from Lund's hands and stared at the words; then, as his
eyes went down the page, he said, "God, there's more. . ."
"If you'll allow me, sir."
Lund took the notebook. He was obviously gratified by the effect he had produced but annoyed
about the snatching of the notebook.
Reade was too excited to care. He said, "Go on, please."
Lund said stiffly, "Well, as you've already seen, there was more to come. About a week later a
policeman on the river patrol saw some lines written on the wall under Chelsea Bridge. He'd seen the
writing in Salamanca Place and he thought there was a similarity. To begin with, it was very thick writing.
I mean, it wasn't written with an ordinary stick of chalk, but a block of it. It said:

Enraged and stifled with torment
He threw his right arm to the North
And his left arm to the South.

There was no sign of a body, but it was high tide. He thought that perhaps there'd been something on the
mud under the bridge. And a few hours later they found parts of a body in a sack near Vauxhall Bridge."
"And did anyone realize that it was Blake?"
"No, sir. I'm afraid not. As a matter of fact, no one really connected the things together."
"But somebody must have wondered what it all meant?"
"They did, sir." There was perceptible irony in Lund's voice. "They thought the bit about the ball
of fire was a reference to the hydrogen bomb. Which is reasonable, if you come to look at it. And then
the chalk -- it's the kind that people use for chalking up political slogans. So they got the idea it was
probably some kind of political crank -- some ban-the-bomber or something."
"But what about the second quotation -- about flinging one arm to the North and the other to the
South?"
Lund shrugged. "Same thing. That's what you'd expect an exploding bomb to do, wouldn't you?