to pull up the bedclothes and make everything look ordinary again. Nurse Waters was still snoring as he slipped out of the door.
He made his way up to the top of the building without further delay. He’d used up a lot of time. On the last little landing before the Isolation Ward he hauled out the gin bottle and took a mighty swig. If the object up there really was fearsome enough to make even Mothershead scream, then a man needed a little fortification.
He stopped again outside the door to the Isolation Ward and knocked back another gulp. From inside he could hear a strange, rasping breathing. He took a deep breath and flung himself into the room.
At first he could make out nothing beyond the bed in the far corner and the shapeless thing sitting on the edge of it. He peered closer but the thing didn’t move.
“Here he is,” Renshaw announced tipsily. “The old fiend of the night, the terror of the London. Let’s ’ave a look at you. Let’s see what makes ’em scream …”
As he spoke he swiveled round to the gas lamp and turned it up. The light fell directly onto the Elephant Man’s head, illuminating every monstrous lump, deepening every hollow. Renshaw took an involuntary step backward.
“Cor Blimey!” he uttered in deep awe.
For a moment he was shaken by a genuine horror at a sight that should have been human yet was so far removed from anything human. Then he noticed that the thing on the bed was trembling and he had the sensation that something had clicked in his brain. Whatever that creature was it was capable of understanding that Jim Renshaw was to be feared, and that was a situation Renshaw was used to.
He moved cautiously toward the bed, noting how the Elephant Man drew back from him, and flinched from his hand. Renshaw’s nervousness was gone now. He was in control, the only way he liked to be.
“So this is the Elephant Man,” he said with a grin. “I ain’t never seen nothing like you before. What the bleedin’ ’ell ’appened to you?”
The creature’s silent cowering into the farthest corner increased Renshaw’s confidence yet more.
“Oh—dumb eh?” He took a long swig of the gin and smiled. “Good, I like people what can keep quiet.”
He moved quickly, offering the bottle to the Elephant Man in a movement that was almost a jab, grinning in a satisfied way as the thing tried to press himself into the far wall. “Like a drink? Go on—go
on
have some. No? You should try being more sociable, mate. You’ll get yourself disliked.”
His eyes fixed onto the hanging growths on the Elephant Man’s chest. Tentatively he pressed the cold bottle up against one of them. When nothing happened he began to feel the misshapen body with his fingers. The man made small, whimpering sounds and put up a protesting hand, but did not dare to try to push Renshaw away.
“You and I are going to be good friends, we are,”Renshaw told him softly. “I’ve got lots of friends who I know would like to meet you. And they will, mate—they will.”
He pulled back abruptly and went to the door. He paused and looked back at his victim, raising the gin bottle to him in salute.
“Welcome to the London.”
He closed the door softly behind him and made his way down the stairs. He could hear his brass-heeled boots clicking triumphantly as he went. The sound cheered him. Life was fun again.
Chapter 7
“Good morning, Mr. Treves. If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, with your early habits, you’d ’a made a fine milkman.”
“Good morning, Charley. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Treves dodged the milkman’s horse, who would also have greeted him in its own fashion, and went into the front entrance of the hospital. Already he had forgotten the milkman he’d met at the door. It was the kind of cheerful encounter he made a dozen times a day while his mind was on something else. And people smiled and said how ready Dr. Treves always was to exchange a friendly word, and never knew that he had
He made his way up to the top of the building without further delay. He’d used up a lot of time. On the last little landing before the Isolation Ward he hauled out the gin bottle and took a mighty swig. If the object up there really was fearsome enough to make even Mothershead scream, then a man needed a little fortification.
He stopped again outside the door to the Isolation Ward and knocked back another gulp. From inside he could hear a strange, rasping breathing. He took a deep breath and flung himself into the room.
At first he could make out nothing beyond the bed in the far corner and the shapeless thing sitting on the edge of it. He peered closer but the thing didn’t move.
“Here he is,” Renshaw announced tipsily. “The old fiend of the night, the terror of the London. Let’s ’ave a look at you. Let’s see what makes ’em scream …”
As he spoke he swiveled round to the gas lamp and turned it up. The light fell directly onto the Elephant Man’s head, illuminating every monstrous lump, deepening every hollow. Renshaw took an involuntary step backward.
“Cor Blimey!” he uttered in deep awe.
For a moment he was shaken by a genuine horror at a sight that should have been human yet was so far removed from anything human. Then he noticed that the thing on the bed was trembling and he had the sensation that something had clicked in his brain. Whatever that creature was it was capable of understanding that Jim Renshaw was to be feared, and that was a situation Renshaw was used to.
He moved cautiously toward the bed, noting how the Elephant Man drew back from him, and flinched from his hand. Renshaw’s nervousness was gone now. He was in control, the only way he liked to be.
“So this is the Elephant Man,” he said with a grin. “I ain’t never seen nothing like you before. What the bleedin’ ’ell ’appened to you?”
The creature’s silent cowering into the farthest corner increased Renshaw’s confidence yet more.
“Oh—dumb eh?” He took a long swig of the gin and smiled. “Good, I like people what can keep quiet.”
He moved quickly, offering the bottle to the Elephant Man in a movement that was almost a jab, grinning in a satisfied way as the thing tried to press himself into the far wall. “Like a drink? Go on—go
on
have some. No? You should try being more sociable, mate. You’ll get yourself disliked.”
His eyes fixed onto the hanging growths on the Elephant Man’s chest. Tentatively he pressed the cold bottle up against one of them. When nothing happened he began to feel the misshapen body with his fingers. The man made small, whimpering sounds and put up a protesting hand, but did not dare to try to push Renshaw away.
“You and I are going to be good friends, we are,”Renshaw told him softly. “I’ve got lots of friends who I know would like to meet you. And they will, mate—they will.”
He pulled back abruptly and went to the door. He paused and looked back at his victim, raising the gin bottle to him in salute.
“Welcome to the London.”
He closed the door softly behind him and made his way down the stairs. He could hear his brass-heeled boots clicking triumphantly as he went. The sound cheered him. Life was fun again.
Chapter 7
“Good morning, Mr. Treves. If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, with your early habits, you’d ’a made a fine milkman.”
“Good morning, Charley. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Treves dodged the milkman’s horse, who would also have greeted him in its own fashion, and went into the front entrance of the hospital. Already he had forgotten the milkman he’d met at the door. It was the kind of cheerful encounter he made a dozen times a day while his mind was on something else. And people smiled and said how ready Dr. Treves always was to exchange a friendly word, and never knew that he had
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