They followed Prendick and the shuffling Beast Man through the narrow streets of Soho, as inconspicuously as possible. There were gas lamps along the major streets, but many of the smaller streets were dark, lit only by the light from windows. Prendick was traveling by unfrequented ways, streets with few shops on them and fewer passers-by. Mary was glad: that meant fewer people to notice their presence. She could see the moon over the housetops, hanging above the chimneys like a shilling, half bright and half tarnished.
She did not know where they were. She recognized nothing, and she could not ask Holmes while they were in pursuit. Thank goodness she had left her umbrella at home. It would have been a nuisance under the circumstances. If it rained, she would simply get wet. Three times they almost lost Prendick, but each time they saw him again. If it had not rained the day before, they would likely have lost him altogether. Each time, Holmes found footprints that pointed them in the right direction. Prendick’s footprints were not particularly distinctive—he wore a brand of ready-made boots bought by many gentlemen, Holmes told her under his breath. But he was walking beside the Beast Man, whose footprints stood out like a beacon in the darkness. After a while, even Mary could distinguish them from the other footprints on the muddy pavement.
On one long, lonely street, they had to wait in an alcove to avoid being seen.
“I think I know where he’s going,” said Holmes.
“Where?” asked Mary. “And how can you know?”
“By logical deduction: if he’s making Beast Men, it must be somewhere his actions will not be noticed. Where the presence of animals will not be remarked upon, where limping men with dark skin and excess hair will be treated not as monstrosities, but as foreign sailors.”
“The docks!” said Mary. “I’ve heard they’re the locus of iniquity and vice. Of course, that was according to Mrs. Poole, and she might well say the same of Mayfair. I’m not sure how much her assessment is to be trusted.”
“In this case, she’s not too far off,” said Holmes. “Come, they’re almost at the end of the street. If I’m right, they will be turning south.”
“Have we been walking east?” asked Mary. “I’ve lost all sense of where we are.”
“Yes, can’t you smell the Thames? We’ve been walking parallel to it almost all this time.”
Of course. She blamed herself for not having noticed the rank smell, or for having noticed it but only as a matter of course, as something at the edge of her consciousness but not as a clue. Let that be a lesson to her—one she was not likely to forget.
“They’ve turned the corner. Come on!”
Mary hurried along the street behind Holmes. Her feet hurt terribly, but that did not matter. They had to find Justine and Beatrice.
They turned where Prendick and the Beast Man had turned before them, toward the river. This street was lined with warehouses. Prendick rapped on the door of the second one on the left. She could hear the sound reverberating. The door opened, and for a moment she could see a rectangle of light. Then it closed behind the man and beast, and the street was dark once more.
Keeping to the shadows, she and Holmes drew closer. Here there were no streetlights, but the street was wider and the moon shone down as it could not in the narrow alleys. They could see the warehouses well enough. The one into which Prendick had been admitted was two stories high and made of brick. It had a great door, most likely to admit carts, and then the smaller door on which Prendick had knocked. Over the great door was the name ALDERNEY SHIPPING, in white paint that was visible even in the darkness. On the second floor were several windows, all dark. On the first floor, there was only one window, in which a light was shining.
“Shall we try to see what’s going on?” Without waiting for a response from Holmes, she crept up to the window with the light in it. The shutters were closed, but they were so old that some of the slats had rotted away, and the window itself was broken in several places. She had a clear view of the room, or a portion of it. What she saw caused her to gesture wildly to Holmes. He was right behind her, having followed her almost immediately. He looked in as well at the horrific scene. Mary’s blood ran cold in her veins.
CATHERINE: Now am I being melodramatic?
MARY: No, it really did make my blood run cold. I mean not really, because blood can’t run cold within the human body. But as a metaphor, it accurately describes how I felt at the time.
CATHERINE: Oh, for goodness’ sake!
Even Holmes said “Dear God” under his breath.
MARY: He really did say that. I remember it distinctly.
The room had no doubt once served as an office for Alderney Shipping. An oil lantern hanging from the ceiling lit the center of the room, but left much of it in shadow. The room was lined with shelves that had probably once held smaller packages. Now, those shelves held large bottles that reminded Mary of the Royal College of Surgeons. Swimming in those bottles were parts of bodies. Hands, legs, torsos. Perfectly preserved heads. Eyes closed, they swam in preserving fluid. But surely there were more parts than five girls could have provided? She could see at least three heads, and she did not want to count the number of limbs, of various sorts. Along one wall was a large cage, which had probably once safeguarded valuable merchandise. Now it held Beast Men. She could see two, or was it three, standing in their hunched, misshapen way close to the bars, but only part of the cage was visible from where she was standing. In the center of the room, under the lamp, was what appeared to be an operating table. Around it stood Prendick and two Beast Men—the hunched, shuffling one that had fetched Prendick, and a tall, hairy one that looked suspiciously like a bear.
On the table lay Justine, still in her white nightgown. Her wrists and ankles were strapped to the table. She was staring up at the ceiling, calmly.
JUSTINE: I was waiting for death and preparing to meet my Lord.
“There are three of them,” Mary whispered to Holmes. “Do you think we could rescue her? The Bear Man looks strong.”
“That can’t be all of them,” he whispered back. “What’s in the portion of the room we can’t see? Wait and watch. I think we need to know more before we act.”
“Well, Prendick? Can you do it?” The voice Mary heard was deep, harsh. It was not a voice she had heard before.
“I don’t know,” said Prendick. “It’s a delicate operation, removing a brain. Moreau could have done it, but I’m not Moreau. I could damage her forever.”
“Damn you! You’ll do it, and it will work, or I’ll strangle you with my bare hands!”