“Good business terms,” he continued. “My associate will pay you as soon as he can, I promise.”
“I don’t trust this associate of yours any more than I trust you,” said Mrs. Raymond. “How am I to know he exists? Twelve girls, I’ve provided—descriptions, addresses. Twice I contacted the girls myself, luring them into places where you could collect what you desired. I want my hundred pounds. Once I receive it, I’ll tell you where to find your daughter.”
Twelve girls! And Lestrade only knew about five. The other seven . . . presumably their bodies had not been found. Catherine heard a low growl.
“And your friend here doesn’t frighten me. I’ve seen worse in the alleys of Spitalfields.”
“I already know where Diana is, Mrs. Raymond.” So the Wolf Men had been his spies! Well, that made sense. And that growl . . .
“But evidently she’s not in your possession. Are you having difficulty retrieving her? One small girl? I don’t think much of you or your organization, Mr. Hyde, if one small girl gives you difficulty.”
“We have not yet retrieved her, no. We have not had time to turn our attention to such a trifle. But once we have time, it will present no difficulty. Our organization is more powerful than you can imagine, Mrs. Raymond.”
Was there a way Catherine could see, just a little? She wanted to see Hyde. He sounded confident, but underneath that confidence, she could smell fear. This was Diana’s father . . . and Mary’s, if her hypothesis was correct. Hyde, the criminal, alive. Could she catch a glimpse?
“My associate is very real, and will reveal himself in his own time. Meanwhile, we need a pair of hands. Delicate hands—he is most specific. Anna Pettingill’s hands were rough and chapped. We need the hands of a lady. Another governess, perhaps. Or a lady’s maid.”
Catherine edged slowly toward the center of the window, where there was a gap in the curtains about the width of an eye. Yes, there—no, she could only see Mrs. Raymond. What was that? A floorboard had squeaked, and for a moment Catherine wondered whether she had stepped awry. But it was across the room, outside the door.
Mrs. Raymond had heard it as well. She wrenched open the door, grabbed what was standing there, and pulled it inside the room.
It was Alice.
“How long have you been standing there, brat? How much of our conversation have you heard?” She held Alice by the collar of her nightgown.
“Just about everything, I reckon.” Curiously, Alice did not seem afraid. Foolish of her, thought Catherine. She should be afraid, very much so.
“So the girls have been spying on me! How many of you are there, beside yourself?”
“Just me,” said Alice. “And I wasn’t spying. That new girl, Catherine, was snoring so loudly I couldn’t sleep. So I walked around and came down here to see if I could get a bit of food, dinner not being what they call nourishing. I saw the light, and I came to investigate.”
Ah, Catherine had been too quick to dismiss little Alice. She could lie like a champion. But why? She had clearly followed Catherine. Why was she protecting her?
“That will make it easier,” said Mrs. Raymond. “There will only be one of you to get rid of. Hold her, Mr. Hyde! And you, whatever you are!”
What was happening? Through the gap in the curtain, Catherine saw Alice crumple to the floor, and then light flash on something in Mrs. Raymond’s hand. A knife? No, now she could see it—a hypodermic syringe. Had Alice been drugged? She should have leaped out earlier, when Alice was still talking. When they could both have run. Now, the best course of action was to wait.
“You’ll have no use for this morsel—her hands are as red and raw as a scullery maid’s,” said Mrs. Raymond. “But you might as well take her with you. It’s too dangerous to keep her here, where she can talk to the other girls. Dispose of her as you will.”
“You, take her,” said Hyde. A dark shape leaned down and gathered Alice in its arms. When it stood again, Catherine could tell that it was a Beast Man, tall and hairy. A Bear Man, judging by the smell. Instinct said attack, but if she showed herself now, she would be caught. Would she be able to fight a bear? She didn’t think so. He was an ugly specimen, badly sewn together. Moreau had been cruel enough, but at least he had tried to make his creatures aesthetically pleasing. These creatures were malformed, even for Beast Men.
And then, finally, as the Bear Man turned to go, she caught a glimpse of Hyde. He was small, certainly smaller than she was. He gave an impression of deformity, although perhaps it was simply the way he walked, hunched over, with a queer shuffle. If he had stood upright, he might have been handsome—in his face there was charm, as well as craft and guile. But his sneer would have made most women avoid him.
“Think about what we need, Mrs. Raymond,” he said. “Hands, a lady’s hands. I’ll be back with your payment tomorrow night.”
“I should hope so,” said Mrs. Raymond. “And no hands until you do! I’m not to be trifled with, Mr. Hyde.” She followed him out the door, turning down the gas as she went. And then Catherine heard a key turn in the lock. She was locked into Mrs. Raymond’s office.
MARY: Alice, why did you follow Catherine? Were you just curious about where she was going?
ALICE: Oh, I was curious all right, but I didn’t care about that, miss. See, she was wearing Mrs. Jekyll’s dress. I recognized it right away: there was a darn under the arm that I had made myself when Mrs. Poole didn’t have time. Your mother had torn it in one of her fits. And so I thought, Why is this woman wearing Mrs. Jekyll’s dress? You could have sold it, of course, but I didn’t think you would sell your mother’s clothes unless you were in desperate straits. Perhaps she had stolen it, but something about her didn’t strike me that way. I’ve known thieves, and she wasn’t a thief. And then I saw her hiding in Mrs. Raymond’s office, behind the curtain. I could see her eye in the gap, staring at me. I didn’t know if she was a bad one, but I knew Mrs. Raymond was, and that little man—Hyde—and the tall hairy one, they weren’t right either. So I made a choice.
MARY: It was the right choice, and I’m glad you made it.
ALICE: Thank you, miss.