The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [89]
Burton examined them for a moment, staring into their motionless eyes.
"Transfixed by psychic magnetism," he said.
"I see," responded Detective Inspector Honesty. "Mental domination."
"Yes. I'll bring them out of it."
For the next few minutes, the Yard man looked on in bafflement as Burton chanted and waved his hands about in front of the immobilised couple. Slowly, blinking in confusion, they regained their wits and were led into the parlour, where they sank into chairs. They remembered a knock at their back door, a man with white skin, white hair, and pink eyes-and nothing else.
When Honesty revealed to them the fate of their young lodger, the woman became hysterical, the man spat expletives into the room, and Burton and Swinburne left.
They passed through the crowd outside, ignoring the questions shouted at them, and swiftly walked away.
"You should have foreseen this, Richard," advised the poet, his voice uncharacteristically grim. "Oliphant read your notes."
"I know. Confounded fool that I am!" cursed Burton. "I never considered that the bastard would come here first and do away with the poor little soul. How the hell could I have overlooked the possibility? I'll never forgive myself!"
"Don't be an idiot. You overlooked it because infanticide is unimaginable," offered Swinburne. "No one normal would consider such an option. But Richard, when I say you should have foreseen it, I don't mean to censure you because you didn't; I mean to suggest that this new role of yours requires a different way of thinking. You have to attune that phenomenal intellect of yours to deviant possibilities like this."
"You're right, Algy, but I must confess: I'm doubting myself. First Monty Penniforth, now Billy Tupper; how many more innocent lives are to be lost due to my negligence?"
Swinburne suddenly hopped up and down and screeched: "For crying out loud, Richard, you didn't gut the cabbie or stab the child! Others did-and you have to stop them before they commit further atrocities!"
"All right! All right! Come on, let's check the missing boys' rooms. Maybe we can get some idea of why they weren't returned like Tupper and the others."
The second address supplied to Burton by the Beetle was less than half a mile away, on Tainted Row, which, despite its name, was a fairly respectable street of once handsome Georgian houses, now mostly divided into flats and individual chambers. Their destination was a three-storey residence that stood on the corner. Its various rooms were rented out by the landlord, Ebenezer Smike, to the League of Chimney Sweeps.
Smike was a careworn-looking individual, with a sallow complexion and uneven eyes, gaunt cheeks, and a long asymmetrical jaw, all of which gave his face a peculiarly bent quality. The fact that he regarded his visitors from the corners of his eyes, with his face slightly turned away, accentuated this impression. He wore a long threadbare dressing gown of a bilious green hue, and beneath it a pale yellow shirt, black and white chequered trousers, and a pair of worn tartan slippers.
"The League is still paying rent on the rooms," he explained as he led them up the stairs, "though they stand empty. I ain't touched 'em. Here you are."
He opened a door, revealing a small chamber containing a bed, a table and chair, a wardrobe, and a water basin.
Burton stepped in and surveyed the room; looked at the clothes in the wardrobe-a shirt, a waistcoat, a pair of trousers, and a pair of soft shoesand at the comb, tin soldier, and bag of bull's-eyes on the table. A sootstained flannel hung over the edge of the basin. A well-thumbed penny dreadful-Robin Hood's Peril--lay on the bed.
"This was Benny Whymper's room," said Smike.
Two small boys had appeared and were standing behind the landlord, watching the proceedings.
Swinburne smiled at them and asked, "Are you lads sweeps, too?"
"Yes, Mister," said one.
The next room, Jacob Spratt's, was almost identical to the first. A pair of slippers poked out from beneath the bed; a mirror leaned against the wall