Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 49, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2004

Constable Kung meditated, finally remembering one Samuel Godson, who washed windows for a living. He had customers all across London, wealthy customers, and — for the East End — his was a profitable business. He owned several ladders that he and his employees used. We marched in a procession to the Godson home, which was located in a street that seemed like a veritable oasis amidst the general squalor of the East End. The houses adjoined each other in the usual crowded fashion. Like the buildings in nearby streets, they were old, run down, and in need of repairs, but here the four or five rooms of each house were occupied by a single family. The heads of the houses were tradesmen or small proprietors who were even able to afford a slavy — a young girl who performed the rough housework.

The days of such a street were numbered. Very soon — probably the moment their present leases expired — those single families would be replaced by people who would elevate rental values astronomically by their willingness to live with one or two families in a room. Thus the houses would bring in several times their present income, and the tradesmen and small proprietors would be forced to live elsewhere and probably settle for something far shoddier.

Sam Godson was celebrating Christmas with a houseful of children, his own and those of his employees. He was a plump, jolly, gregarious Englishman who was grateful to life for giving him his own business through which he was able to provide his family with necessities and even an occasional luxury. He knew Constable Kung, and he greeted Lady Sara with proper deference when the Constable introduced her.

Lady Sara proceeded to make the Godson family’s Christmas far more joyous than the window washer had anticipated. She offered him a pound for the temporary rental of a horse, a cart, and a ladder long enough to reach Charlie Tang’s first-storey windows. The family had been ready to sit down to their Christmas dinner, but in consideration of Lady Sara’s status and the pound that had been offered, Mrs. Godson was willing to keep the dinner warm long enough for Sam to accompany us to his business premises — a shed in a mews behind the buildings in the next street — and outfit us with a horse (he had two), a cart (he also had two), and a ladder (he had half a dozen of various lengths). As window washing enterprises went, his was a large one, lavishly equipped, but neither horses, nor carts, nor ladders were very good. He had salvaged what he could, wherever he could. I made my own selection of a ladder, taking the best he had. I intended to climb it myself, and I didn’t care to risk my life on one of the more rickety specimens.

I drove the cart back to Charlie Tang’s premises. Constable Kung and Lady Sara walked and had no difficulty keeping up with Sam Godson’s elderly, plodding horse.

When we reached Charlie Tang’s place, I hired a boy to hold the horse for me. Then, with Constable Kung’s assistance, I raised the heavy ladder to the window opposite the room occupied by Madam Shing. I climbed up cautiously, but the ladder proved sturdy enough. When I reached the top, I looked into a dimly lit bedroom. There was nothing Chinese about it. Clearly Tang’s English wife had charge of the household furnishings. Otherwise, there was nothing of interest to be seen inside, but I busied myself for a few minutes with the window. Then, just in case Wong Li was somewhere out of sight either asleep or lying in a drunken stupor — though Constable Kung was indignant when I suggested this, which would have been a betrayal of Charlie Tang’s trust — I knocked vigorously on the window. There was no response, so I descended.

I said to Lady Sara, “The window is locked securely, and no one has been meddling with it. Certainly no one has opened it recently from the outside. So much for the white-bearded burglar.”

“Try the next window,” she suggested.

It was all of twelve feet away, but perhaps Madam Shing had been so startled by what she saw that she got the window wrong. Constable Kung and I moved the ladder, and again I climbed it. It was another bedroom, this time obviously a children’s room. It was as neatly English as the first bedroom and just as unoccupied. This window, too, had not been opened recently. I rained another fusillade of knocks on it before I descended.

“We might as well try all of the windows,” Lady Sara said.

“Even those in front? Madam Shing could possibly have confused the two side windows, but she certainly couldn’t see around the corner.”

“Nevertheless, as long as we have the ladder...”