Norton, Andre - Novel 39 (29 page)

 
          
 
"You know me, eh?"

 
          
 
The voice issuing from the twisted lips was
deeper and more resonant than Hester remembered it to be. The bulging brows,
slanting cheekbones, and jutting jaw rendered the face feral. Now the woman
nodded, splayed hands busy on the desk before her.

 
          
 
"Here." One hand pushed papers
forward,
the other dipped a pen in the inkstand and extended
it. "I require your signature."

 
          
 
Hester peered down at an unfamiliar sight that
was nonetheless recognizable; a document prepared by means of a typewriter. As
she reached toward it, Mrs. Kirby's broad hand covered the surface,
then
peeled the topmost sheet back to reveal a second, which
displayed a blank space at the bottom of the page.

 
          
 
"No need to read it." The pen jabbed
down. "Your name goes here."

 
          
 
"What am I signing?"

 
          
 
"Call it a stay of execution if you
like." The woman's chuckle rose above the hiss and crackle of the flames
on the open hearth. "Sign and the child will be spared. If not—"

 
          
 
The pen rose in a slashing gesture.

 
          
 
The eyes of Hester's companions told the
story; Sallie's wide with terror, Bertha's slitted and intent upon the blade
pressed against her captive's throat.

 
          
 
The creature behind the desk was gazing at
them too, and in a moment she nodded, her voice knife-sharp.
"As
you wish.
Now, Bertha, now—"

 
          
 
"No!" Hester reached for the pen,
reversing it quickly to scrawl her name at the bottom of the second page. As
she flung the quill onto the desktop, Mrs. Kirby's
mouth
slitted to a vuipine grin
.

 
          
 
Blotting the signature, the woman laid the
document on the desk to her right,
then
glanced past
Hester as she spoke.

 
          
 
"What kept you?" she said. The grin
had disappeared. "What kept you? I told you to give her the draught."

 
          
 
"She didn' drink 'er tea."

 
          
 
"No matter.
You
had the knife."

 
          
 
"I'd not go up against 'er poker."
Bertha spoke rapidly. "She spied lights over 'ere and sent me
orff
to fetch the rozzers."

 
          
 
"But you didn't go?"

 
          
 
The girl shook her head. "She
give
me the keys when I went out. I waited a bit to be sure
she'd gone upstairs again. Then I let meself back in."

 
          
 
The woman nodded, smiling. "What
happened?"

 
          
 
Bertha glanced at Hester. Pushing Sallie
forward at knifepoint to the side of the desk, she bent forward and whispered
her reply.

 
          
 
As the seated figure listened, the grin
broadened.
"Excellent, my dear.
Excellent!"

 
          
 
"Thank you, m'am."

 
          
 
"Take the girl downstairs, Bertha. Go by
way of the other door, the one Monsieur Philippe pried open when we came in
tonight. He's waiting with a cab on the bystreet. Victor and I will meet you
later at the appointed place."

 
          
 
Listening, Hester arrived at fresh perception.
The side door gave access to the laboratory below from the bystreet. It was the
one that both Poole and Mr. Utterson had referred to when describing the
comings and goings of Mr. Hyde.

 
          
 
As for the names Mrs. Kirby mentioned just
now, they were doubtless accomplices, the men Sallie had spoken of in her
account of abduction. That much seemed evident.

 
          
 
But not to the child.
There was no hint of comprehension in her vacant stare as Bertha guided her
past the shattered, scattered fragments of paneling from the smashed-in door.
Sallie seemed in a state of shock, completely unaware of her surroundings, and
realizing this caused Hester to remain silent. Under the circumstances
unawareness could be a blessing, but it was one that Hester herself was denied.

 
          
 
Once Bertha and Sallie departed she was only too
mindful of the situation in which she found herself; alone with this woman she
knew but did not
know,
this being that should not be.

 
          
 
The storm raged outside, the blaze within.
Logs must have been brought to feed the fireplace, for the flames leapt high
and Hester fought giddiness in the mounting heat, conscious of the scrutiny
from across the desktop.

 
          
 
She forced herself to confront that stare,
found voice with which to challenge it. "How could you bring yourself to
this? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

 
          
 
"Quite the
contrary."
The deep voice held a hint of mockery. "My senses
have come to me, after a lifetime of suppressing them." The speaker shook
her head. "The years I wasted mending the woes of the unfortunate,
tormenting myself over the misery of others! Small wonder I endured the agonies
of constant megrims until remedying my own suffering eased and opened my mind.
Then I knew."

 
          
 
"Mrs. Kirby—please,
listen
to me—"

 
          
 
Hester faltered, for the woman took no heed,
continuing without pause as she stared into the feeding flames. "That
which we call 'evil' is only our natural state. The truth is we're animals with
animal instincts that cry out for gratification.

 
          
 
"Is this how you justify what you have
done to Sallie?" Hester formed and firmed her accusation. "It was you
who sold her, wasn't it?"

 
          
 
Cloaked shoulders shrugged. "What if I
did? She's not the first, nor will she be the last. There's no shortage of
waifs in the world, nor any lack of demand on the part of those who desire to
possess them."

 
          
 
"I don't understand," Hester
murmured. "Surely you must have some compassion, some feeling of
remorse—"

 
          
 
Again a chuckle sounded. "Those so-called
pangs of conscience vanished with the megrims, thanks to Dr. Jekyll's
medicine."

 
          
 
"Dr. Jekyll!"

 
          
 
Mrs. Kirby nodded. "In the past he had
attended to the ailments of my young charges. When my own affliction became
unbearable I sought his help. He compounded a simple elixir that relieved me of
distress."

 
          
 
Hester's frown was framed in firelight.
"There can be nothing simple about medication that brings about results
such as these." Then realization came. "That was no headache
remedy—it had to be the potion Dr. Jekyll was administering to himself."

 
          
 
"Not in the beginning. On several
occasions I sent one of my charges round for a fresh bottle of the compound,
but it was only after the last time that the changes began. On this occasion I
entrusted Murch with the errand, and it was she who made the mistake.

 
          
 
"In light of what happened, I questioned
her later. Dr. Jekyll concocted the mixture and poured it into a bottle. Upon
doing so he was called away by his manservant. Murch tired of waiting, took the
bottle and departed. There were, she admitted, several similar bottles resting
side by side atop the desk, none bearing labels. It is not difficult to realize
which one she brought me."

 
          
 
Hester's frown deepened. "You weren't
aware of the difference at the time?"

 
          
 
"Indeed I was, but since it promptly rid
me of my affliction, I thought Dr. Jekyll had merely substituted a stronger
preparation. As you can see, I soon had reason to learn its strength when the
changes began."
Again the rasping chuckle.

 
          
 
To Hester, its import was more eloquent than
words. Dr. Jekyll had been terrified by his transformation; Mrs. Kirby seemed
exultant. When the supply of ingredients ran out the doctor gave way to
despair. But under similar circumstances this woman appeared to embrace her
altered state.

 
          
 
As if divining her thought, Mrs. Kirby shook
her head. "The changes came, but I knew no fear, once I realized their
source. I soon surmised the concoction was for Dr. Jekyll’s private use, in
which case he must also have prepared something to reverse its
consequences."

 
          
 
"Yet you made no effort to inquire,"
Hester murmured.

 
          
 
"Do you take me for a fool? If Jekyll
discovered I'd learned his secret, how long do you think it would be before I
had a visit from Mr. Hyde?" The woman shrugged. "Nor was I in need of
antidotes at first. The drug's effects lasted for but a few hours, disappearing
completely once I had slept. By the time I'd consumed the contents of the
bottle, it was a different story. I take it Dr. Jekyll found himself in the
same predicament; the effects were now involuntary and there was no further
means of obtaining an antidote.

 
          
 
"I can only wonder if he too endured the
megrims that now returned to herald such transitions. I only know that for a
time I suffered the tortures of the damned. It is only of late that such
symptoms have finally given way. And unlike

 
          
 
Jekyll, my changes are more transitory, and
when they come, I welcome them."

 
          
 
"Do you no longer have headaches?"
Hester's query was born of confusion. "But both Captain Ellison and Murch
told me—

 
          
 
"Exactly what I told them." The sly
smile spread. "Once I retire, no one presumes to disturb me, or take note
of my movements."

 
          
 
"By way of the
rooftop."
Hester nodded.
"Just as Sallie
said."
She paused. "How many other children have you used
so?"

 
          
 
"That is none of your concern. The
shelter has proved valuable in satisfying demands both here and abroad."

 
          
 
Her meaning was plain, but Hester demurred.
"One need not stoop that low to obtain income."

 
          
 
"Don't take that holier-than-thou tone
with me!" The woman's smile vanished. "At first I had other plans.
Once I realized the truth about Dr. Jekyll's disappearance, I meant to seek out
his solicitor and exact a suitable sum from the estate in return for keeping
silent. But before I could act, you came out of nowhere to spoil it all."

 
          
 
"Please, Mrs. Kirby—if you'll only
listen—"

 
          
 
"Have no fear, I've always listened to
you most attentively, my dear." There was a hint of sardonic amusement in
the reply. "Your unwitting revelations prompted me to take action lest my
own involvement come to light."