Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [5]
The steam from the cauterizing dispersed, leaving Treves’ face sweaty and satisfied. The work was good. He could see this even now. He stood back and threw down the iron, just as the theater door opened to admit a boy of about ten with a scruffy appearance.
“Excuse me, Mr. Treves sir.”
“Yes?” Treves looked up, a sudden tension in his manner that caught Fox’s eye.
“I found it.”
Treves studied the boy carefully. “Did you see it?”
The urchin shook his head slowly.
“I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The head vanished behind the door.
“I say, Freddie,” said Fox in a low voice. “What was that about?”
“Oh nothing—nothing of any importance.” Treves had begun to roll down his sleeves and remove his apron. “Nothing of any great importance. All right, you can take this man away.”
He departed quickly before he could be asked any more questions. He found the boy waiting for him in the passage.
“Where?” he said briefly.
“Turners Road. There’s a line of empty shops. One of ’em is called Collys, it used to be a grocery but it’s not used now.”
“I know the place. Are you sure it’s there?”
“Camping out in the cellar. Don’t s’pose they pay no rent. Mr. Bytes ain’t a great man for payin’ rent.”
“Mr. Bytes would be—?”
“The owner.”
“Owner?”
“That’s what he calls ’imself. Says it’s ’is. ’E bought it from the last owner for a good price. ’E complains somethin’ chronic. Says the p’lice keeps movin’ ’im on and ’e ent made a profit yet.”
“Mr. Bytes has been taking you into his confidence, has he?”
“What?”
“Mr. Bytes has been telling you all this?”
“ ’E tells anyone in the boozer ’o’ll listen. ’E’s known for it.”
“How do you know where he lives?”
“Followed ’im ’ome, didn’t I?”
Treves gave the boy a coin, checked his destination again, and almost ran out of the hospital. An excitement was growing within him, similar to the excitement he’d felt when he first read his final medical exam and realized that it was going to give him no problems.
Two days he had waited since he’d been forced to leave the fun-fair empty-handed, two days while the urchin had searched London for the mysterious monster—only to track him down barely half a mile from the hospital. From the little he’d seen before the curtain fell, from the uproar the creature’s presence had created, Treves had no doubt that he was on the track of something rare.
The afternoon was cold and wet. The streets glistened blackly with the recent rain and brought a chill to Treves, so recently emerged from the sweltering heat of the operating theater. He looked for a cab but was unable to find one. He shrugged. For half a mile he could manage to walk.
The streets got dirtier the farther south he went. Horse manure and filth of all kinds mingled with the rain, and the air was smoky from peat fires. Once he had to pass through a large butcher yard and was nearly knocked flying by a carcass being heaved up onto a shoulder almost as beefy as the meat itself. He had to stop once and ask the way from a man who was working a machine that belched out steam at an alarming rate without (as far as Treves could see) serving any useful purpose.
He came at last to Turners Road and found the shop he was looking for without any trouble. Heedless of danger from the authorities, Mr. Bytes had grown daring and displayed his poster outside for all the world to see. The canvas covered the whole front of the shop except for the door, which was padlocked. It announced that the Elephant Man could be seen for twopence.
Treves made a futile effort to pull the canvas aside, but all he could see were windows made opaque with dirt. He became aware of a small boy on his left, who was watching him intently.
“Do you know where the proprietor is?” he asked, holding out a coin.
The boy nodded, snatched the coin, and vanished round a corner. It took him only a moment to find his quarry, because Mr. Bytes never believed in going far for his refreshment. He was in luck at the first pub. When informed of his errand, the owner hustled his coat back on, grabbed