A carriage! No more long, cold walks to the Theatre! I felt dazed, and when I instructed the driver to make my usual stop at the Air Station, in order to mail you my dreadful missive, I was stunned that he cheerfully agreed.
It was still early, and I knew Hyde well enough to know that he would not make his appearance at work until at least an hour later. I spotted a coffee stall near the Station and got my usual order, making sure to procure a cup for Hyde as well. The luxury of returning to the carriage, to avoid the streaming pedestrian traffic, was so foreign to me that I was beginning to believe that all of this was no more than a dream.
The dream soured the moment I stepped foot into the Doctoral offices. A note was affixed to Hyde’s door, addressed to me. I recognized the writing as MacDougal’s, and since he had never seen fit to write me before, I had a sense that this was not to be a pleasant note.
It was not. I was ordered to appear, immediately upon my arrival, in the Operating Theatre. I was not to wait for the arrival of Hyde. This was to be a mandatory meeting involving me, and Hyde’s presence was not required.
The trauma of yesterday filled my mind. I had no desire to go, and yet I knew that I must. It is one thing to ignore MacDougal when Hyde is present, quite another when it is only I. I was an employee of the Doctoral Council, officially, and a mandate such as this could not be ignored. Not if I wished to retain my position.
I paused only to set the coffees down upon our worktables. I did not begin my morning routine, although I did take pleasure in the sight of my strangely clean work surface. Hyde had clearly tidied up all of my notes and books, hiding them from a possible police search. My scalpels and medical reticule were hidden beneath his own desk. I was touched by his determination to protect me. Hyde’s actions, coupled with those of the Gentlemen, gave me a sense of hope, and I did my best to retain that emotion as I made my way grudgingly to the Theatre.
It was unusual for an assistant to be summoned in this manner, and as I walked, I knew it could only be for one purpose. They probably wished to question me with regard to the murders. I knew that the police had, in all likelihood, discussed the events of yesterday with the Council, and I feared that this meeting was a direct result.
August Smithson had been very clear to me, yesterday, that I was to discuss the details of the situation with no one. I was to never speak to a policeman without his being present. I assumed that this directive extended to my employer, but I was unsure of how to contact my solicitor. Would he even wish to be present, in spite of the fact that it was my employer who wished to conduct the questioning? I decided that he would, and turning on my heel, I immediately returned to Hyde’s office.
If yesterday taught me anything at all, it was to be cautious. I decided to believe the nagging sense of unease that filled me. Better for Smithson to know that I was being summoned, and decide for himself not to attend, than not know at all.
I wrote a quick note to Trantham, informing him of this turn of events. I made sure to warn him that it might be a meaningless precaution on my part, but until I heard otherwise, I was not planning on saying anything until my solicitor arrived, or provided further instructions. I caught the attention of a runner (we employ several, and use them to deliver medical supplies or pass messages from one office to another and throughout the city, as needed). I gave him strict instructions to deliver this immediately, and promised double payment, to ensure its priority.
I felt better as I once again walked to the Operating Theatre.
That good mood evaporated entirely when I reached the operating floor and saw the large number of physicians and assistants awaiting me in the gallery. It appeared that everyone, save Hyde, was there, filling the seats and conversing among themselves. I saw Mr. Rose, scowling from the first level. He was the first to see my emergence onto the floor, and he gave such a shout that, in an instant, all attention was focused on me.
I felt tired then. So very, very tired. After all I had suffered the day before, the horror of finding a friend murdered, followed by the fear of a false accusation and arrest, weighed heavily upon my shoulders. I could see the anger and outrage filling the expressions of those nearest. I could hear the babble of angry words as I stepped across the floor.
MacDougal stood on the first gallery. His aged face was set in a determined scowl. I took a fiendish pleasure in the fact that they all had been awaiting me, that my tardiness and return to Hyde’s office had not pleased them. After all I had been through, it pleased me greatly that these horrible men should be forced to wait.
This was obviously not a good meeting. I could see the diabolical restlessness, could feel the tension of a waiting attack. There was one hard-backed chair arranged on the floor. I knew then that, at best, this was to be an inquisition.
How different the floor looked, without the examining table! How difficult to remember the Steambox being here. It felt a lifetime ago.
The galleries were lined with a mob, a restless, seething group that was obviously fueling their tempers with conversation. I could feel the hatred and frenzy beginning to build. I could see it on the expressions that surrounded me.
I was of half a mind to turn around entirely, to turn my back on the proceedings, but I knew the folly of such a decision. I feared that even Hyde would be unable to prevent my release from service here. I want nothing more than to be a physician, and if they tossed me onto the street, then I knew that the dream would be forever gone.
Best if I faced the music, and somehow, miraculously, managed to disarm the attack.
And then the shouts began. “Murderer!” “Criminal!” “Let him hang!”
I knew then, at that point, that this was a hopeless situation. There was to be no good outcome. No unexpected salvation. Something terrible had been put into motion, and no amount of reasoning or explanation would make it any different.
“Alistair Purefoy,” MacDougal intoned, his heavy voice silencing the crowd in an instant. “You have been brought before us, the fellows of the Doctoral Council, on a very grave matter. I suggest that you sit down, sir,” he said, motioning to the awaiting chair.
Exhaustion became heavier. Something deep within me began to rebel. Something snapped within my mind. I understood instinctively that this was not going to go easy for me, that this could not turn out well. That knowledge, coupled with a reaction to yesterday’s terror, resulted in a strange and unusual unwillingness for me to comply with their every whim.
Politeness would serve me no favors here.
I met MacDougal’s gaze squarely, which seemed to startle him.
“No, sir,” I said, my voice echoing through the Theatre. “I believe that I would prefer to stand.”
Surprise rippled through the crowd. MacDougal scowled.
“Insolent whelp!” he rasped. “I suppose that there is no need to beat about the bush. We have brought you here in response to a police inquiry and wish—”
“There is no police inquiry,” I answered, cutting him off midsentence. My interruption was clearly startling. You must understand that MacDougal is feared by all. As leader of the Doctoral Council, he is treated with such respect that no one dares to interrupt him, should he be speaking. Until today, I would never have thought myself capable of such disrespect.
“No police inquiry,” MacDougal echoed, staring down at me from his higher perch. “I beg to differ, Mr. Purefoy. I have it on unmistakable authority that you were indeed arrested yesterday morning, in suspicion of several brutal murders.”
I could hear the furor of the galleries, shouted outrage. I could see Mr. Rose, glaring down at me with unmasked disgust. The noise was growing greater now, as the mob was gathering its hurricane force.
“Monster!” “Butcher!” “Criminal!”
Again, something happened, deep within me. Some rebellious streak, some unwillingness to face such injustice, once again
overtook me. I reacted without thinking of the consequences.
I shouted for silence.
It descended upon the galleries, so swiftly and absolutely that suddenly it seemed as if all the air had been extracted from the Theatre. Shock was evident. Even MacDougal was too surprised to speak, and he stood above me with his mouth hanging open.
I did not allow time for recovery and forced myself to speak first.
“The police are no longer interested in me, and I am unsure why this meeting has been called at all.”
“It has been called,” MacDougal said, his cheeks reddening so violently that I was reminded of Detective Drummond, “because I wished it to be called, Mr. Purefoy! What insolence is this? The Doctoral Council is an institution independent of the police. We retain the right to know the details of any situation that involves one of our workers, and I demand to know your opinion of why you were arrested.”
“I was arrested under false pretenses,” I said. “I was found innocent.”
“Your opinion, sir!” MacDougal shouted. “I wish to know it.”
My mouth was dry, my heartbeat quick, but I had started down a road that was impossible to vacate. I forced myself to ignore anyone other than MacDougal. I kept my gaze linked with his.
“I have been instructed,” I said, hoping desperately that I was correct, “to discuss this only with my solicitor present. If you wish to question me, then I must insist that Mr. August Smithson be in attendance.”
Again, there was the ripple through the crowd. It became apparent to me that Smithson’s name was as feared here, among the physicians, as it was with Detective Drummond.
“August Smithson?” MacDougal’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you mean to tell me that August Smithson is your solicitor? How can that even be possible? A man of that stature defending a mere butcher?”
An unfortunate laughter surrounded me. I was being mocked. This was simply too much for me to bear, and I was unable to stop myself from descending into temper.
“Mr. Smithson is indeed my solicitor, and is determined to defend my innocence,” I said. “I would be happy to answer any question he deemed appropriate, but I must insist that he be present at my inquisition.”
“We care nothing for your solicitor,” MacDougal snarled. “We are an independent institution. I do not care what the police say. What Mr. Smithson says. You are found guilty of murder, Mr. Purefoy. Guilty before us!”
“Guilty!” I shouted, my voice barely heard above the answering roar of the crowd. “How is that possible? I am innocent!”
MacDougal shouted for silence, waiting to speak until the hubbub had evaporated. His smile upon me was chilling.
“We are a noble profession, Mr. Purefoy, and are disinterested in employing anyone who is remotely associated with such treachery. In our eyes, you are a murderer.”
“Impossible!” I shouted, desperation and anger overtaking me. “This is madness! I am innocent of any crime!”
MacDougal’s smile was treacherous. “You are released from service, effective immediately. You must pack your belongings and vacate the premises without hesitation. You are a murderer, Mr. Purefoy, whether or not you are ever charged by the police. You are a murderer before our Council, and we will not allow further association with us.”
Although I had realized the result of this terrible meeting the moment I had stepped foot onto the operating floor, I was still sickened to hear the inevitable proclamation. A cold disappointment blended with my outrage. My dream of being a physician crumbled before my eyes, beneath the sneering grins of MacDougal and Rose and all the rest of them.
“This means that you are no longer gainfully employed by the City of Edinburgh. We have already contacted the Foreign Office, sir. Your temporary citizenship has been revoked. You are now a fugitive from enemy territory, and as such, will be retained again by the police. If they cannot see fit to charge you for the murders, Purefoy, then they will certainly see you rot as an enemy of the State!”
“Ridiculous.”
The single word, laced with disgust, shot through the room with the speed of a pistol shot. It cut into my despair, and caused me to switch attention to the gallery staircase. I realized then that it was Hyde, that he was making his way down the steps and onto the operating floor. His presence here caused another bout of furious outrage to drift through the galleries, but Hyde appeared unaffected by the reaction.
He was drinking coffee as he came to stand beside me. “You overstep your boundaries,” Hyde said, his glare settled upon MacDougal. “Not even you can punish an innocent man.”
“I can and will do as I wish!” MacDougal shouted. “In all things, Hyde. And not even you can stop me! Your assistant is released from service, sir, and is to vacate the Theatre immediately!”
“Of course,” Hyde said, after another sip of coffee. “He and I will vacate immediately.”
Again, the silence that fell upon the place was absolute and all-encompassing. MacDougal appeared shocked by Hyde’s own pledge to vacate, as was I. I turned to him, intending to argue the foolishness of such a united, but appreciated, effort, but Hyde silenced me with a glare.
“Of course, you must understand what this means,” Hyde continued blithely, sipping coffee as if this was a normal sort of conversation being conducted. “I am not surrendering my position on the Doctoral Council, although I am surrendering my office here. You know as well as I do, MacDougal, that my position is protected by the Crown, and not even you,” he said, his tone mocking, “possess the power to release me from my place on the Council. I answer to the Crown, and to the Crown directly, which you will never be able to do, no matter how much you might wish it otherwise. Same for all you pathetic vultures,” he said, letting his gaze wander the length of the galleries.
Fury erupted in the seats above. Hyde smiled and then set his coffee cup down upon the chair’s seat.
“You are conducting a dangerous game, Hyde,” MacDougal snarled. “What do you intend to do? Hang out your own shingle and offer your services to the groaning city? Or better yet, are you going to set your monster assistant upon the vulnerable and the ill? Is he to bring in your cadavers at whim? Is that your diabolical plan? He will be arrested, Hyde, and will likely hang for being an intruder upon our great nation!”
“You tire me, MacDougal,” Hyde said, sighing. “You know as well as I do that Purefoy is innocent. Let me warn you that you have started a dangerous avalanche here. You have no idea the stakes at which you are playing.”
“You cannot lead the Council!” MacDougal shrieked. “You do not have control here, Hyde! It is as I wish it to be and Purefoy will hang!”
“Doubtful,” Hyde countered. “Considering that he is employed by me.”
“You cannot—,” MacDougal began, but Hyde shouted over him.
“I most certainly can hire a private assistant, MacDougal. You are aware that the Crown has granted me special privileges. Among them is that I am able to select one apprentice, providing I intend to tutor him in the ways of a physician. I have selected Mr. Purefoy, and intend for him to sit the Examining Boards, once his studies are complete.”
Miss Eugenia, I will confess here, that I very nearly fainted. I actually swayed on my feet, and determined to not show weakness, I roughly grasped the top of the chair.
A physician! I stared at Hyde, ignoring the furious shouts all around me. I scarcely believed to hope and searched his expression for any sign of jest.
This was, however, Ian Hyde. I cannot imagine how his expression would look, should he be jesting. Humor is not an emotion I would recognize on the man.
I am to be trained! Miss Eugenia, you know how important this is for me. For us.
“Hyde, this is impossible,” MacDougal countered, his voice cutting through my dazed thoughts. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the gallery rail
ing. “You cannot have an independent apprentice without a sponsor. No one will sponsor you, and I can personally guarantee that Alistair Purefoy will not sit for the Physician Boards while I am still breathing!”
“I have a sponsor,” Hyde replied. “My brother, Simon Trantham, has graciously accepted the posting. And while I am not particularly anticipating your demise, MacDougal, I have no doubt that Purefoy will be able to sit the exam. Mr. MacBean assures me that your unfortunate bias will have no effect upon my assistant, and he will be granted a fair exam, when the time comes. The Crown will see to that, sir.”
Again, the name MacBean. I remembered it mentioned yesterday. Once again, it caused a nearly violent reaction. I remembered something about MacBean being linked with the Courts and with the Crown. Oh, how I wished I understood more!
“I find that I have no further requirement for the facilities here,” Hyde said, finally displaying his terrible grin. “This Theatre no longer holds any interest for me. Purefoy and I shall office elsewhere. Nicely done,” he said, lowering his voice so that only I could hear the compliment. “But I suggest we leave before they descend upon us, and crunch our bones and drink our blood!”
I laughed, for the first time in hours.
We met Smithson in the hallway, who was very pleased that I had not allowed any of MacDougal’s questions. Once his fury abated at my summoning, he was interested in hearing the details. As Hyde made arrangements for our office to be emptied of furniture and accoutrements, Smithson and I retired to a nearby tearoom. He ordered scones and cream, and insisted that I sit and tell him everything that had happened.
I was surprised by his laughter, by his enjoyment of what I was beginning to feel was foolish behavior on my part. To be so rude to my superior? Had I somehow misread the situation?
Smithson felt otherwise and reassured me that my initial assessment was true. MacDougal called an inquisition only to shame me. To frighten and intimidate me. My work posting was already lost, and I had no choice other than to defend myself.
The Curious Steambox Affair Page 19