Nitpicks!
‘All Hallows’ Eve is a bit formal for English usage. Queen Victoria herself said ‘Halloween’. And ‘eternal’ is a flourish.
A dock watchman’s name is usually ‘Jobsworth’, as in, ‘It’s more that my job’s worth.’ And something’s up. A baton sounds official. A baton is a symbol of officialdom. I’d expect a cosh for a dock watchman, with a knob at one end, and a hook at the other.
A cosh, as in, ‘Oy, who goes there? What’s your business? Show us your hands. Show us your faces. Pipe up, or by God you’ll get the cosh!’
Or at very most, a truncheon.
This watchman’s as thick as two planks. If this is Wapping, how did these ne’er-do-weels get through the dock-gates? The docks have high brick walls and there’d be dock police tramping about, and a transit shed would have collection times for consignments. The London Dock gates wouldn’t normally open till half-past seven in the morning. Thieves would be more likely to come from among the lightermen on the river, but they’d have their work cut out for them.
Jobsworth should have got an actual clerk to sign. A dock watchman like him wouldn’t have that kind of authority. What was he thinking? Someone with half a brain would have said: ‘Get out of it! Take your paperwork to the collections office, then wait till you’re called.’ And the porters or warehousemen would have insisted on wheeling any pallets out, and with the foreman looking on. And ‘Guv’nor’ is a term of endearment to one’s better. You can be sure that if somebody calls you ‘mister’ he doesn’t like you. It starts to add up. I think our dock watchman must be in on this little caper. It’s an inside job, and he’ll be sacked when morning shift arrives.
Glyn is a Taffy surname, whereas Charlie goes by his Christian name, so he’s probably just a boy.
Pants suggests underpants. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt that’s he’s wearing trousers.
‘Guv’nor’ is cockney. It jars a bit with ‘yer’, which is for country yokels.
An’ ee’z nurr droppin’ ’is hachez lahk a propa cocknay wuhd.
So Glyn is probably some Taff who’s come up to the Big Smoke and is trying to talk like a cockney.
Artefact with an ‘i’. Something’s amiss.
A closed van is a more likely choice for shifting imported valuables from the station yard than an open wagon. Drays in London are usually for brewers. These are crooks, all right.
It’s surprising one would see the dew through all the London fog.
Greeson is a Scottish name, but he ‘stashes’ things, like an American. In English slang, to ‘stash’ something meant to stop doing it.
Presumably the ship used the Bay of Biscay too, as well as the Med and Channel.
Where did they go next? Only one clue: ‘the aristocratic section of London’. What could that be? Mayfair, Belgravia, or South Kensington. The West End, anyway, or a fashionable suburb like Bayswater.
In real life, of course, Flinders Petrie was the Professor of Egyptology at University College London.
It takes a light (if clammy) touch to pull of the macabre. In medicinal cannibalism, the author has succeeded. A grotesque parody of the Eucharist is fitting fare for Halloween.
Sir Sheldon is probably some kind of epileptic, Paracelsist crank, but if so he isn’t alone.
As late as 1908 Egyptian mummy was still fetching 7/8 per lb in Germany.
[This message has been edited by Lord of Hosts (edited 10-28-2007 @ 04:59 AM).]