Free The Floating Body by Kel Richards

original sin is a gross insult to the whole human race. Furthermore, I refuse to accept that my own nature is fundamentally corrupt and disordered in some way.’
    ‘Exactly, that’s the rub, young Morris. What concerns us is that the Christian teaching about human nature is telling us something about ourselves that we don’t want to know.’
    ‘Something about ourselves that is quite untrue, you mean!’ I protested vigorously.
    Then Jack did something that quite surprised me: he clapped me gently on the shoulder and said, ‘My dear chap, you mustn’t think that because human nature—
all
human nature—is broken and defective in crucial ways that people aren’t still likeable. You, for instance, are an extremely likeable young man. I always enjoyed teaching you when you were my pupil and I enjoy your company still. But that doesn’t mean that you and I—and humans in general—are somehow basically
good
. That’s a separate thing entirely.’
    I admitted to Jack that I was now feeling confused.
    ‘Which is completely understandable,’ he responded. ‘We take it that if people aren’t good they aren’t likeable and that everything they do is poisoned by their corrupt character. Our problem as human beings, however, is not of that order. We suffer from a corruption that we are, at some level, aware of and fighting against in all our best moments. But the very fact that we
have
to fight against it makes my case.’
    Once again his pipe had gone out and he turned his back against the wind and struck a match to relight it. This action seemed to strike a thought.
    ‘If there was no wind blowing this morning,’ he said, his voice once again cheerful and hearty, ‘I would not have to protect the small, flickering flame of the match. But I must because there is. We would not have to struggle with our consciences as often as we do if there wasn’t a chill wind blowing through every human soul.’
    I nodded thoughtfully as Jack continued, ‘We would not be disappointed by our own small moral failures if it were not the case that we have to guard against such failures at every moment.’
    Jack paused to look up at the roofline of the Old School and then back down at the gravel road before he added, ‘When something like this happens, we are seeing that inner corruption—that “inner demon”, if you wish—being unrestrained and allowed to break out in violent anger.’

SIXTEEN
~
    Further discussion was interrupted by the brisk return of Detective Inspector Sexton Locke—this time without his sergeant, who was, I assumed, making enquiries elsewhere in the school.
    ‘Now, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I’d like you to accompany me to the roof—to the “scene of the crime”, as it were.’ With these words he turned and led the way.
    As we passed under the Old School archway we encountered young Stanhope, running like a boy who was late for class—which indeed he was, the first bell having already rung.
    When he saw us, he skidded to a halt and addressed himself to me.
    ‘What’s happened, sir?’ he asked. This skinny, pale boy with his tousled blond hair blinked at me through his big spectacles, waiting for an answer.
    ‘Did Dean Cowper talk to you at chapel this morning?’
    ‘Yes, sir, he did, sir.’
    ‘What did he tell you?’ I asked, thinking it best if I knew what ‘official’ line of explanation was being taken in the school.
    ‘He said Mr Fowler’s had an accident, sir. He said he’s dead, sir. Is it true?’
    ‘I’m afraid it is, Stanhope. Now you run along or you’ll miss your first class.’
    He hesitated as if hoping for more details, but Inspector Locke snapped, ‘Be off with you, boy,’ and he took to his heels.
    To get to the back stairs that would lead us up to the roof, our small group had to go down one of the long corridors. Here we found a group of Fifth Formers milling around outside their form room door.
    ‘Off to class, boys,’ I said. ‘The first bell’s already