The Anatomy of Deception - Lawrence Goldstone [95]
The problem of how to proceed, however, was not so easily disposed of. I knew at once that I could not hope to obtain information from the head of the Philadelphia League Against Human Vivisection by revealing that I was a physician. I was going to need assistance and there was only one person to whom I might turn.
This time, when I arrived at Mount Vernon Street, I did not catch a glimpse of the man with the mustache. “Why, hello, Dr. Carroll,” Susan Eakins said as she opened her door, as if I had just returned from an extended journey, “how lovely to see you again.” She did not, however, move to invite me in.
“Hello, Mrs. Eakins—” I began.
“Susan,” she corrected.
“Susan.” I cleared my throat softly. “I wonder if I might have a very brief word with your husband?”
She shook her head with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Carroll, but Thomas can never be disturbed while he is working.”
“I understand that this is an unconscionable intrusion,” I persisted, “but it is quite urgent.”
She considered this for a moment. Then she nodded. “I’ll let him know you are here.”
A few moments later, Eakins came down the stairs. He looked like a madman, hair mussed, wild-eyed and paint-stained. I understood why it was unwise to disturb him. He ushered me into the small parlor.
“I need your assistance,” I said.
I told Eakins of my conversation with Cadaverous Charlie. He reached up with paint-spattered fingers and tugged on his earlobe. “I agree that our next step is to interview this Reverend Squires. What role did you have in mind for me?”
I explained why I could not see Reverend Squires myself. “Even if he did not discover that I worked with Dr. Osler, I am sure that he would never confide in a medical man.”
“And you think it more likely that he would confide in me?” asked Eakins. “I’m sorry, Carroll, but I must tell you that you have not thought this through. If this Reverend Squires is as you describe him, he will not be a party to any conspiracy, regardless of who seeks to engage him. It seems clear to me that he must be made to reveal information without being aware he is doing so, or at the very least, unaware of what we are actually attempting to learn.”
“I don’t see how we can cause him to do that,” I confessed.
Eakins thought for a moment. “He must want to give information rather than be coerced. He must think he is speaking with someone who can be of assistance to him.”
“Are you going to suggest that you wish to paint him?” I asked.
Eakins shook his head. “No, no. That’s not at all what I mean. We wish him to reveal his activities, not sit for a portrait…. Wait!” he exclaimed, then smiled slowly, looking quite feline. “Of course. You must go as another,” Eakins said.
“As another? Misrepresent myself?”
“As you said, he will not confide in a physician.”
“Impossible. He would see right through me. This is your scheme; you should execute it.”
Eakins shook his head. “I’m sorry to inform you, Dr. Carroll, but I am sufficiently well known that I can hardly go anywhere in this city as anyone but myself. Even in that guise, I am often unwelcome. No. I’m afraid it will have to be you.”
“I expect you have a firm idea of who that alter ego should be.”
“A very firm idea,” said Eakins.
I listened as Eakins told me. “I’ll be back,” I said.
One hour later, I pulled up in a hansom at the Germantown Mission on Wayne Avenue, a wide, tree-lined road just off Fairmount Park. The two-story building with the gold cupola at which the carriage stopped was part of a larger complex that seemed