The Serpent's Shadow

facial tissue hanging in strips; then it had made a second attempt and torn up the scalp. The wounds had been neatly stitched up, and there was no sign of infection, which was a mercy. She thought she recognized the suturing; the 'Irishman' was probably Doctor O'Reilly, from Dublin, who tended to use blanket-sutures. She and the Irish physician shared a certain sympathy, since anyone from Ireland practicing in this hospital was considered no more than a short step above a female. 'You've been well served,' she continued, placing a finger just under his chin, and turning his face to examine the sutures. 'Quite well, actually. There will be scars, but you aren't going to resemble anything from Mary Shelley's book. I should think you'd look more piratical than monstrous.'

He didn't respond to her attempt at humor, but something flickered in the back of his eyes for a moment.

Some of his attitude must be due to pain, she decided, if he's been left to suffer all day, his face and head must be in agony. That sort of pain would batter the bravest soul into a stupor.

Just then, Amelia returned with fresh dressings and, unasked-for, the morphine pills. Maya took great care in rebandaging the man, then allowed him to see the bottle placed just out of his reach. His dull eye brightened with hope for a moment, but he did not beg for the relief she held in her hand. Had he done so once today, only to be denied?

'I would like to leave some medication with you, so you can have some relief now and sleep through the night,' she said. 'But I would also like to hear more than you've told me so far.'

Now she had his interest. 'What would you like to hear?' he asked, showing renewed life and liveliness. 'I swear to you, I have not made any of this up.'

She sat down on a chair at the side of his bed, and rested her elbow on the stand that held his washbasin and pitcher of water. Amelia took the chair on the other side of the bed, unasked, and Bill leaned over the better to hear. 'Why don't you start at the beginning?' she suggested, pouring him a glass of water and handing him a pair of pills.

'My name is Paul Jenner,' he said, when relief from pain had smoothed his features and given his gaze just the slightest unfocused quality. 'My father is a country vicar. Nothing very distinguished, I'm afraid, but he was an Oxford man also, and it was his dream that I should go to his own College. He saved all he could so that I could have that chance. My ambition was not for the Church, which I think disappointed him a little. My thought was to get myself tied to the coattails of some rising man in politics, and perhaps do some good that way.' He laughed a little. 'I know that sounds very idealistic and naive, but I did think that I could work some good in the world, if I tried. Perhaps I should have followed in my father's footsteps after all.'

'Positions of that sort are few and far between,' Amelia noted, speaking up as if she could not help herself, and the bandage-shrouded face turned in her direction and nodded.

'So I found,' young Jenner admitted. 'And I confess I didn't know quite what to do at that point. I didn't have the friends to get into the Foreign Service, and I didn't have the money to get into business. I was about to fling myself into the stormy waters and look for a job as some well-born dunce's tutor, which would at least allow me to remain at Oxford, when along came my savior—I thought!'

'That would be the gentleman we were just discussing?' Maya asked.

Jenner laughed, with a note of anger in his voice. 'Better to say the devil than my savior, and—no gentleman! But I didn't know that. All I knew was that Simon Parkening came looking for a secretary and found me. One thousand a year and all expenses, housed and fed at Parkening House! He said he wanted someone he knew and could trust, that some of what I would see and handle would be very confidential. It was princely, and how could I resist such an offer?'

'Obviously, you were not intended to,' Maya observed. 'And it sounds very much as if Master Parkening simply wished to get himself a secretary who would have the double ties of gratitude and school binding him. That should not have made you uneasy in itself. I am sure that there are many men who have gotten their personal secretaries with the same idea and motives.'

'Nor did the work seem out of the ordinary—at first,' Jenner responded. 'It was normal enough, given that I performed the bulk of what work he was supposed to be doing. And that, so I am told, is hardly unusual among his set. But it wasn't long before he started to show a cruel streak, a meanness of spirit. He took a great deal of pleasure in ordering me to do some very menial tasks, and displayed a deal of dissatisfaction when I failed to display any emotion, or act affronted, but simply performed as he bid me. It was then that he took to demanding that I accompany him when he went out of an evening....'

Difficult as it was to believe, the young man actually grew a shade paler, and he swallowed with great difficulty. 'I will not burden you with the tale of his pleasures,' Jenner said at last. 'Suffice it that it was not enough that they were evil; they were blasphemous as well.'

Amelia blushed, but Maya raised an eyebrow. My word. Is this fellow a prude who has been bullied by his master, or is there something truly nasty going on here? 'Oh?' she replied. 'Do have a care what you mean by that word. Not everyone would hold to the same definition of blasphemy as you.'

A faint flush rose to his cheek. 'Doctor, I do,' he replied sturdily. 'I mean by that his pleasures were uncleanly; the pagan and the priest alike would have been disgusted, even horrified. He consorted with that man Crowley, and if you know anything of his debaucheries, that name will tell you enough.'

Maya nodded. 'I know something of his reputation,' she said, slowly becoming convinced that if this was a coincidence, it was not one engineered by her enemies. 'There are things I have heard