I question him:
"That lady you told me about once--the one that was drowned--was it
somewhere about here?"
"Eh? Oh, the one that fell in! Yes. Ay, it was close by here. Dreadful it
was. There must have been twenty of us here, with the police, searching
about."
"Dragging the channel?"
"Yes. We got out planks and ladders, but they broke through under us; we
cut up all the ice in the end. Here"--he stopped suddenly--"you can see
the way we went."
I can see in the dark space where the boats had moved out and broken
through the ice to drag the depth; it was frozen over again now.
The porter goes on:
"We found her at last. And a mercy it was, I dare say. The river was low
as it was. Gone right down at once, she had, and got stuck fast between
two stones. There was no current to speak of; if it had been spring, now,
she'd have travelled a long way down."
"Trying to cross to the other side, I suppose?"
"Ay. They're always getting out on the ice as soon as it comes; a nasty
way it is.
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