chapel.’ All at once his face appeared paler than ever, the blood draining from his lips. I started forward. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’
‘What? No, no,’ he said. ‘It’s just . . . just my head.’ He unwrapped one of the bundles and stared, appalled, at the rags, and the hideous blotch-eyed doll within.
‘It’s blood,’ said Will. ‘Each one of them is soaked in blood. Or at least, the bindings are.’
Dr Bain seemed not to be listening. ‘Look, Jem,’ he said suddenly. ‘Would you mind if I took these away with me? Just for a day or so.’
Will and I exchanged a glance. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course not.’ What else could I say? I could hardly refuse. After all, it didn’t matter who had the coffins, not really. And yet why did I feel that they should remain here? Why did I feel as though it was up to me – up to Will and me – to find out where they came from and who had hidden them away? I thought of the six crudely shaped dolls, their six ragged screaming mouths and six pairs of black misshapen eyes. They had seen something. They
knew
something. It was something monstrous, I was certain. And they would yield their secret – if we asked the right questions.
‘Why not come for supper tonight?’ said Dr Bain. ‘You and Mr Quartermain? Perhaps we might examine these peculiar little relics together. The light is better in my study. Besides, I have something else I need your help with. You’ll understand when you come. But I’ll take them now, if I may.’
Without waiting for my answer, Dr Bain took a sack from beneath the apothecary table and loaded the coffins inside. Suddenly he seemed anxious to be gone. He glanced at the window, as though distracted by a movement, but there was nothing to be seen but brown fog, as thick and dense as the flank of a giant beast. ‘Pity about that fog,’ he muttered. ‘Can’t see a damn thing. Still, can’t be helped.’ He adopted a brisk tone that was at odds with his obvious feelings of unease. ‘Come over directly after your rounds, Jem. Earlier if possible. You too, Quartermain. We shall uncover the secrets in these boxes before the night is out.’
Chapter Four
B y the time my evening rounds were over the fog was so thick that we could barely see to the ends of our noses. We had a lantern each, but it made little difference. Once we were outside on St Saviour’s Street it was as though we were walking along the bottom of the Thames. I could feel the squelch of ordure beneath my feet and the rustle of refuse though I could not see where to step that I might avoid it. We had covered our mouths and noses with scarves, but still the fog tickled our throats and coated our tongues with the taste of sulphur and effluent. Beside me, I heard Will retch and cough. I was glad that Dr Bain’s house was so close to the infirmary, as it was not a night to be out.
It was peculiar for a gentleman to open his own front door, and I could see Will’s surprise, but Dr Bain was not a slave to etiquette. When he wished to have an evening of experimentation he would send the servants out for the night. It was easier than having to explain the smells and noises, and servants, once acquired, were hard to keep even in the most respectable households. Supper would no doubt be some cold meats and cheese, set aside by the housekeeper before she went out, though Dr Bain may well have forgotten about supper altogether, and we would end up going to Sorley’s chop house.
Dr Bain shook me warmly by the hand. ‘Good to see you, Jem,’ he said. ‘And you, Quartermain. You’ll be glad to hear that I’ll not be excising any hip joints tonight. Just a little taste of something to see what its actions might be. Jem knows the drill. We’ve done it before, haven’t we, Jem?’
Dr Bain led us down the hall and into the drawing room. I saw Will wrinkle his nose at the smell of the place – the ammonia reek of rats’ piss and spirits – and stare in surprise at
‘What? No, no,’ he said. ‘It’s just . . . just my head.’ He unwrapped one of the bundles and stared, appalled, at the rags, and the hideous blotch-eyed doll within.
‘It’s blood,’ said Will. ‘Each one of them is soaked in blood. Or at least, the bindings are.’
Dr Bain seemed not to be listening. ‘Look, Jem,’ he said suddenly. ‘Would you mind if I took these away with me? Just for a day or so.’
Will and I exchanged a glance. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course not.’ What else could I say? I could hardly refuse. After all, it didn’t matter who had the coffins, not really. And yet why did I feel that they should remain here? Why did I feel as though it was up to me – up to Will and me – to find out where they came from and who had hidden them away? I thought of the six crudely shaped dolls, their six ragged screaming mouths and six pairs of black misshapen eyes. They had seen something. They
knew
something. It was something monstrous, I was certain. And they would yield their secret – if we asked the right questions.
‘Why not come for supper tonight?’ said Dr Bain. ‘You and Mr Quartermain? Perhaps we might examine these peculiar little relics together. The light is better in my study. Besides, I have something else I need your help with. You’ll understand when you come. But I’ll take them now, if I may.’
Without waiting for my answer, Dr Bain took a sack from beneath the apothecary table and loaded the coffins inside. Suddenly he seemed anxious to be gone. He glanced at the window, as though distracted by a movement, but there was nothing to be seen but brown fog, as thick and dense as the flank of a giant beast. ‘Pity about that fog,’ he muttered. ‘Can’t see a damn thing. Still, can’t be helped.’ He adopted a brisk tone that was at odds with his obvious feelings of unease. ‘Come over directly after your rounds, Jem. Earlier if possible. You too, Quartermain. We shall uncover the secrets in these boxes before the night is out.’
Chapter Four
B y the time my evening rounds were over the fog was so thick that we could barely see to the ends of our noses. We had a lantern each, but it made little difference. Once we were outside on St Saviour’s Street it was as though we were walking along the bottom of the Thames. I could feel the squelch of ordure beneath my feet and the rustle of refuse though I could not see where to step that I might avoid it. We had covered our mouths and noses with scarves, but still the fog tickled our throats and coated our tongues with the taste of sulphur and effluent. Beside me, I heard Will retch and cough. I was glad that Dr Bain’s house was so close to the infirmary, as it was not a night to be out.
It was peculiar for a gentleman to open his own front door, and I could see Will’s surprise, but Dr Bain was not a slave to etiquette. When he wished to have an evening of experimentation he would send the servants out for the night. It was easier than having to explain the smells and noises, and servants, once acquired, were hard to keep even in the most respectable households. Supper would no doubt be some cold meats and cheese, set aside by the housekeeper before she went out, though Dr Bain may well have forgotten about supper altogether, and we would end up going to Sorley’s chop house.
Dr Bain shook me warmly by the hand. ‘Good to see you, Jem,’ he said. ‘And you, Quartermain. You’ll be glad to hear that I’ll not be excising any hip joints tonight. Just a little taste of something to see what its actions might be. Jem knows the drill. We’ve done it before, haven’t we, Jem?’
Dr Bain led us down the hall and into the drawing room. I saw Will wrinkle his nose at the smell of the place – the ammonia reek of rats’ piss and spirits – and stare in surprise at
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