is the facility to order your thoughts, to categorize them, to collate them if you like, and to publish them, put them into action, or, at the very least, speak them. These persons squat for hours and reach no conclusions whatever. Anyway, it's wet.'
Jemma said: 'He's coming up.' The displacement of the surface heralded Archie's return. He broke the water and then descended once more making a hand signal to Tennant as he did so. Tennant said something to the other diver, Charlie, who once more began to grumble. Tennant gave him a short, hard push towards the canal and his involuntary momentum became another graceless leap. He glugged down into the murk. Both divers reappeared several times and eventually came out of the water and were hauled to the bank by Tennant and Davies with Mod hovering in support.
"Orrible ’ announced Archie. 'Never seen so much shit in my life. No prams though.'
The second diver said firmly: 'I want to go home.'
Tennant pursed his lips and tutted. 'Quit,' he threatened, 'and you won't come on the Bognor trip.'
Charlie appeared crushed. 'Oh, all right then,' he said. He tapped Tennant's dry rubber suit. 'But you're coming down too?'
'I haven't got into this to work up a sweat,' said Tennant haughtily. 'I'm next in.' He told Davies he was going to try a hundred yards further along the bank where the tow-path was wider. They watched while he prepared to leap into the canal. He returned their looks as though embarrassed. Then he pulled his mask down in a finalizing way and performed the ungainly, feet-first jump into the water.
'That scores nil for elegance,' observed Jemma.
'It's the flippers that spoil it from an aesthetic point of view,' agreed Mod. Davies half turned. The fishermen, muttering like gnomes, were trudging away with their gear and baskets. He saw that beyond them spectators had gathered on the bridge that took the road across the canal.
Tennant surfaced, waved what appeared to be an excited hand, and submerged again. They gathered at the edge of the grim water. Globular disturbances were followed by a further waving arm. 'What's he got, I wonder?' said Jemma.
'Cramp,' guessed Archie, standing with them.
They hauled Tennant out, backing away from the ordure that ran from his wet-suit. 'Stinking,' he said, when the mask was off. 'Foul. But it's down there. A pram. It hasn't been under there long. It's on its nose. We could hook it up.'
Archie and Charlie went to get some rope and tackle from their truck which was parked on the road. When they returned, a small shifty man came with them. 'Hello, Shiny,' said Davies.
'Hello, Dangerous. What you up to then?'
'Sponsored salvage dive, Shiny.'
The newcomer nodded, turned and walked back towards the crowd on the bridge. 'They was all wondering,' he mentioned.
Tennant was preparing to go into the canal again, taking the ropes and a metal hook. 'Shiny Bright,' said Davies to Jemma with a nod at the small man's departing back. 'Did a housebreaking once and wore a pair of mittens so he wouldn't leave fingerprints.'
Tennant went into the water, this time with a mildly triumphant splash. He surfaced once, went down and surfaced again. He threw the rope ashore to Archie. He held up two hands in a signal and then submerged once more. Archie began to count, wagging one finger. When he reached fifty, he nodded to wedge-faced Charlie and they began to heave studiously on the rope. It tightened. Davies moved forward to help and after a hesitation, so did Mod. Davies motioned him aside. 'You stand there and think,' he said. The other three men began to pull. Kitty, sensing the excitement, barked. They heaved until the smooth, once-white handle of the perambulator surfaced.
'Hold it, hold it,' muttered Davies anxiously.
'Keep hauling,' contradicted Archie. They hauled. Tennant's seal-like head appeared almost alongside the pram and he began to swim in small rings, guiding it with his flippers. Gradually, it cleared the surface, the