When they had left the narrow alleys behind and were once more on familiar ground, in the streets of Soho, Charlie said, “You know, Diana, you’re the best liar I ever heard.”
“Ain’t I, though?” Diana reached into her pocket and pulled out an apple. “I’m a pretty good thief, too. If I’d told him we were there on a Sunday School outing, he would never have believed us. People are always ready to believe the worst.” She took a bite of the apple and then handed it to Charlie. “Here, share and share alike. Not too big a bite, mind, or I’ll keep it all for myself!”
The sun was up in the sky by the time they reached Park Terrace. Diana rang the bell. Mrs. Poole answered the door with an “Oh, it’s you, is it? Don’t you both look a sight! What did you do, sweep chimneys? Come in, then, both of you, and get yourselves some breakfast. And tell me where Miss Mary is, because I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since yesterday. It’s mortal worried I’ve been, and I hope they’re all right, those girls!”
CHAPTER XVIII
Back to Park Terrace
How is he?” asked Mary, rising from one of the wooden benches provided for visitors. This seemed to be a night of sitting on hard benches. But at least they had made it here, all of them, and Captain Mudge had only charged them five pounds after all. “Because it’s you, Mr. Holmes,” he had said. “Wait until I tell the little woman who I ferried up the Thames tonight. Sherlock Holmes himself, and a bunch of circus performers! She won’t right believe me.”
“The doctor says he’ll recover, but it will be a while before he can use that arm again,” said Holmes. “I’m grateful to Miss Rappaccini for speaking with the physician. My medical knowledge is, I fear, too specialized for such a case. And of course to Miss Frankenstein for carrying him to the infirmary.” He bowed to Justine, who had followed him and Beatrice up the stairs to the infirmary with Watson in her arms. They had been gone for almost an hour, while the rest of them waited below: Mary sitting on the bench with Alice falling asleep against her shoulder, Hyde handcuffed to one of the rails, Catherine pacing back and forth. Renfield crouched in a corner, muttering about his flies. Once, Hyde had turned to her, as though about to speak, but she had looked down and checked the time on her wristwatch, then wound it as though completely intent on the process. She had no wish to speak with him, not now.
“It was nothing at all, Mr. Holmes,” said Justine. Perhaps carrying a man up a flight of stairs was nothing to a woman who could strangle Beast Men with her bare hands.
“Yes, it will take time, but with exercise, he should regain the full use of it,” said Beatrice. She took off the surgical mask and gloves she had been wearing while in the infirmary. She had not wanted her breath to foul the air. “Mr. Holmes, when you said this was a hospital, I imagined it would be a medical facility. I did not expect—a charitable home for veterans?”
“Yes, the Royal Hospital has housed the injured veterans of our wars for more than a century,” said Holmes. “Here they may live out the rest of their days in peace. I knew if such a wound could be treated anywhere in London, it would be here. And of course Watson himself is a veteran of the Afghan Campaign.”
“Mr. Holmes! Hr. Holmes!” A man with a halo of silver hair ran down the hall toward them. “I can’t let you go without telling you what a pleasure it is to see you here, and Dr. Watson as well. Although of course we’re not pleased he’s been injured. Far from it, I assure you. I’m the secretary of the hospital, and if there’s anything we can do . . .” He bowed to Holmes, then looked at the women in their various states of undress with surprise.
“You can take care of Watson,” said Holmes, “for which service I will be most grateful. Your physician assures me that he will recover fully, in time. Other than that assurance, all I require at the moment is a cab or carriage, so I can take a dangerous criminal to Scotland Yard. Or rather, two carriages for hire, so these young ladies can make their way home as well.”
“Is there anything more we can do, Mr. Holmes?” asked Mary. She had wanted to go upstairs too, with Holmes, Beatrice, and Justine. But they could not leave Hyde or Renfield, so she and Catherine had stayed in the hall and waited. It had been frustrating, sitting and waiting, out of the action. She could have done more than serve as Alice’s pillow.
“Can you take Miss Frankenstein and Miss Rappaccini back to your residence?” asked Holmes. “They’ve had a long night. I need to take Hyde and Renfield to Scotland Yard. Miss Moreau, if you could accompany me, I believe they would remain on their best behavior.”
Why was Catherine going to Scotland Yard, while Mary was going back to Park Terrace? It wasn’t fair. She could have guarded Hyde and Renfield just as well. She didn’t have Catherine’s teeth, but she still had her revolver . . .
She nudged Alice, and the scullery maid opened her eyes sleepily. “Is it time to make breakfast yet, Mrs. Poole?” she asked, yawning. Then she looked around and said, “Oh!” as though suddenly remembering the events of the night. Mary stood up and rubbed her aching shoulder.
Holmes took her elbow—she was so startled at the gesture that she almost jumped back. He leaned toward her and said, in a low voice, “I don’t wish to alarm the others, Miss Jekyll. They believe our enemies have been defeated, but we don’t know whether Prendick escaped, or where he has gone. We believe the Beast Men he created are dead, but we can’t be sure. Certainly one got away in the confusion. We don’t even know whether they had other confederates. I have asked Hyde, but he refuses to speak. It’s still dangerous out there. I trust you to keep them safe from harm—Miss Rappaccini, Miss Frankenstein, and . . . that girl, whom I take to be a servant of yours?” He looked at Alice curiously. “As soon as I can, I will return with Miss Moreau and we can reconvene, as it were. I think Miss Frankenstein knows more than she has told us—we need to hear her story.”
“All right, Mr. Holmes,” said Mary. “I think I have just enough money left for the fare.” She was disappointed at being sent home, but he was right. She had to get Beatrice and Justine safely back to Park Terrace. He had taken her elbow, he had spoken to her in confidence. . . . She did not quite know what to think, except that it was new, and she liked it.
When the secretary himself told them the carriages were waiting on Royal Hospital Road, they went out together. Just before Hyde mounted the steps into the first one, he turned to her and said, “Mary . . .” It was the first time he had spoken to her directly.