Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [20]
“What did you do to him? He’s been like this all night?”
Treves hoped he didn’t show the sinking of his heart as he looked over to the figure covered with a blanket and gurgling wretchedly against the wall. Was it possible that he had compounded the creature’s misfortune by overtiring him the day before and bringing on some kind of attack?
“What do you mean?” he said mechanically.
“He was fine when he left here, and now look at him!” Bytes yelled.
“I intend to.”
He knelt down beside the man and pulled the blanket away. Then he froze. This was no hysterical attack brought on by strain. The Elephant Man’s body was covered with bruises and bleeding cuts that looked as if they had been inflicted only a few minutes before. He gave a sharp look up at Bytes.
“What happened?” he said quietly.
“He fell.” Bytes’ tone became guarded. Something had gone wrong. “He—falls.”
Treves’ eyes found, as if drawn by a magnet, the riding whip lying where it had landed on the floor, then the clearly marked welts across the man’s back.
“He must have taken quite a fall,” he said, still in the same quiet, grim tone.
Bytes began to bluster uneasily. “He’s a clumsy sod. Never watches where he’s going.”
“Why is he sitting up like this? He needs rest.”
“That’s the way he sleeps. If he lays down, He’ll die.” Bytes dropped his own head back to a neck-breaking angle, and brought it upright again. “Head’s too heavy.”
Treves returned to the figure, who still sat hunched and trembling. Gently he took the massive head in his hands and drew it backward. It came easily, as if it had no will of its own, and Treves was forced to hold it steady while he examined his eyes. He saw the shock of recognition in them. For a moment the Elephant Man’s eyes were all he saw. They were human eyes, agonized, appealing to him, and suddenly Merrick’s good left hand was clutching timidly at his arm.
Regarding his own motives, Treves did not feel he could take any great credit for his dealings with the Elephant Man. But he had always spoken to him gently, and touched him only in kindness. And now he realized, with an awful clarity that was like the shifting of a thick fog, that he was almost certainly the first person in years to show him this much consideration. He had studied him, made his notes, and then packed him off back to Bytes with a shilling to pay for his use. He had not speculated too closely on just what he was returning the man to. He had had too many other things on his mind.
Now those eyes were begging him and the feverish clasp on his arm was becoming frantic.
“This man belongs in hospital,” he said abruptly.
“Can’t you fix him up here?” Bytes protested. “Listen—he’s my livelihood.”
Treves bit back the retort “Not any longer.” He didn’t want to have a fight getting the man out of there. Time enough for Bytes to learn the truth when the Elephant Man had passed safely into Treves’ “possession.” Possession was supposed to be nine points of the law, wasn’t it? So he tried to make his tone reasonable.
“You’re not going to have much of a livelihood if this man dies. He’s very weak, and I don’t know how much damage has been done by this ‘fall.’ Now stop wasting time and fetch a cab.”
It seemed that Bytes saw the force of this argument, for he snapped his fingers to Tony, who scurried out. A horrible, ingratiating grin covered his face like slime.
“I truly appreciate this, my friend. You know, there’s many things that I can do for you. I move in the proper circles for this type of thing—” He made a gesture toward the crouching figure. “In fact, anything at all, if you take my meaning.”
Treves took his meaning perfectly and despised himself for the sudden leap of interest and hope inside him. The memory of the previous day’s triumph was still glowing. But a man could not live for ever on one success. He’d need other specimens. He was fixed in his determination not to return the Elephant Man to Bytes, but perhaps Bytes could be squared about that. There was always money. Something could be sorted