Lights on the river. The plash of sculls. The steady chock of the rowlocks.
The boat crept slowly downstream. The constable, crouched in the bows, swept the beam of a powerful torch from bank to bank. Harriet holding the rudder-lines, divided her attention between the dark current and the moving light ahead. The Dean, setting a slow and steady stroke, kept her eyes before her and her wits on the job.
At a word from the policeman, Harriet checked the boat and let her drift down towards a dismal shape, black and slimy on the black water. The boat lurched as the man leaned out. In the silence came the answering groan, plash, chuck of oars on the far side of the next bend.
“All right,” said the policeman. “Only a bit o’ sacking.”
I always seem to forget how enjoyable it is to read Dorothy L. Sayers. I approach each new Lord Peter Wimsey mystery with trepidation, expecting something stodgy and dull, and each time I find myself delighted beyond expectation. Gaudy Night is only my third Sayers, after Murder Must Advertise and Busman’s Honeymoon (yes, I am reading them out of order), but it has thoroughly cemented my high opinion of Sayers and my fondness for Lord Peter and made Harriet Vane one of my favorite characters in fiction.