Part 7 (2/2)
”No, Mrs. Wheeltapper, nothing like that. It just so happens that I know the sister's town of birth and speak her native language. She was moved to hear it again.”
”It's true,” put in the nurse. ”You cannot imagine, Mrs. Wheeltapper, how it gladdens my heart to be so reminded of my childhood home!”
The old lady threw up her hands.
”Ooooh!” she cried, with more life in her voice than Burton had heard yet. ”Ooooh! How lovely! How wonderful for you, my dear!”
”It is! It is!” Sister Raghavendra nodded. ”Ma'am, I feel positive that you can trust the good captain to behave with the utmost decorum. I would speak with him awhile, if you don't mind, in my own tongue; of his travels in my homeland. It would be dreadfully boring for you. Why not continue with whatever you were doing? I smell cooking-were you performing miracles in the kitchen again?”
The landlady raised a gnarled hand to her veil and t.i.ttered behind it.
”Silly girl!” she chortled. ”You know very well that Polly cooks to my directions and inevitably adds her own special ingredient: utter incompetence!”
The three of them laughed.
”Mrs. Wheeltapper,” said Burton, ”a few months ago the monarch honoured me with a knighthood. I can give you my word that I would never tarnish that t.i.tle with any act of impropriety.”
Even as he spoke, Burton wondered whether he could trust himself to keep such a promise.
”Good gracious!” the old widow cooed. ”A knight! A 'sir' in my own home! Well I never did! I never did indeed!”
She reached up and lifted her veil. The baggy, liver-spotted face beneath, as ancient as it was, had obviously been attractive in its day, and was made so again by the unrestrained smile that it directed at the famous explorer. Two teeth were missing, the rest were yellowed, but the pale blue eyes twinkled with good humour, and Burton couldn't help but grin back.
”Forgive me!” pleaded the widow. ”I treated you like a common visitor when you are obviously a man of culture, as was my dear Tony, may he rest in peace. I shall give you both your privacy!”
She stood.
Burton got to his feet and escorted her to the door.
”A gallant gentleman!” she sighed. ”How lovely!”
”It has been a delight to meet you, Mrs. Wheeltapper. I shall talk with Sister Raghavendra awhile, then depart-but may I call again some time? I know of the 17th Lancers and would be very much interested in hearing of your late husband's service with them.”
A tear trickled down the old woman's cheek. ”Captain Sir Burton, sir,” she said, ”you are welcome to call on me whenever the inclination takes you!”
”Thank you, ma'am.”
He closed the door after her and returned to Sadhvi Raghavendra, who, in truth, was the real reason he might consider a repeat visit to 3 Bayham Street.
”What do you know of mesmerism?” he asked as he sat down.
”I saw it practised many times when I was a child,” she replied.
”Are you scared of it?”
”No. I want to know what it is that I can't remember. If that means placing me in a trance, so be it.”
”Good girl. Wait a moment-let me pull this chair a little closer.”
Burton s.h.i.+fted the armchair until he was sitting face to face with the nurse. He looked her in the eye and spoke in her language.
”Allow yourself to relax. Keep your eyes on mine.”
Two pairs of dark, fathomless eyes locked together.
”You have long lashes,” said the girl.
”As do you. Don't speak now. Relax. Copy my breathing. Imagine your first breath goes into your right lung. Inhale slowly; exhale slowly. The next breath goes to the left lung. Slowly in. Slowly out. And the next into the middle of your chest. In. Out.”
As her respiration adopted the Sufi rhythm he was teaching her, Sister Raghavendra became entirely motionless but for an almost undetectable rocking, which Burton could see was timed to her heartbeat.
He murmured further instructions, guiding her into a cycle of four breaths, each directed to a different part of her body.
Her mind, subdued by the complexity of the exercise, gradually gave itself over to him. He could see it in her luminous eyes, as her pupils expanded wider and wider.
Suddenly, the black circles closed inward from the sides, forming perpendicular lines, and the deep brown irises blazed a bright pink. Something malevolent regarded him.
Burton blinked in surprise but the illusion-if that's what it was-was gone in an instant.
Her eyes were brown. Her pupils were wide black circles. She was entranced.
Recovering himself, he spoke to her: ”I want you to return to last night; place yourself in Penfold Private Sanatorium, in Lieutenant Speke's room. You've been reading to him but now you are interrupted. A man enters the room.”
”Yes,” she replied softly. ”I hear a slight creak as the door swings open. I look up from my book. There is a footstep and he is there.”
”Describe him. In detail.”
A shudder ran through her body.
”Such a man! I've never seen the like! His frock coat is of crushed black velvet; his s.h.i.+rt, trousers, shoes, and hat are all black, too; and his pointed fingernails are painted black; but his skin and hair-straight hair, so long that it falls past his collar-they are whiter than snow! He's an albino! There is no trace of colour on him except in the eyes, which are of a dreadful pink with vertical pupils like a cat's.”
Burton started. Those same eyes had looked out of the girl's head just moments ago!
”There is something wrong with his face,” she continued. ”His upper and lower jaws are pushed a little too far forward, almost forming a muzzle, and his teeth-when he smiles-are all canines! He enters the room, looks at the lieutenant, looks at me, then tells me to fetch a trolley. I must obey. It's as if I have no will of my own.”
”So you leave the room?”
”For a moment, and when I return there are three-three-”
She stopped and whimpered.
”Don't worry,” soothed Burton, ”I am here with you. You are perfectly safe. Tell me what you can see in the room.”
”There are three men. I-I think they are men. Maybe something else. They are short and wear red cloaks with hoods and they are each sort of-sort of twisted; their bodies are too long and too narrow in the hip; their chests too deep and wide; their legs too short. Their faces, though-their faces are-”
”Yes?”
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