The Serpent's Shadow

'You'd like the man's records, wouldn't you?' he said casually, but with a twinkle of complicity in his eyes. 'Tust to look over, of course. I could bring them to you later. You can study them, and of course you'll put them back.'

'That would be very—convenient,' she managed, trying not to grin. 'I'll be in the Poor Childrens' ward.'

Not a quarter of an hour later, Doctor O'Reilly joined Maya in the childrens' ward, checking on three patients of his own there. He didn't actually say anything, just nodded in greeting as they passed each other—and handed her a slim sheaf of papers, which she stuffed into her medical bag. As soon as she finished with the last of her young patients, she made her unhurried way out to the street. Following her usual habit, she hailed a cab and directed the driver to the Fleet. On the way there, the seat got a little extra padding as she stuffed Paul Tenner's records down between the cushions. It had been a wet spring so far; if anyone ever found the papers, they'd be an illegible mess from dripping mackintoshes by the time they were located.

She got down at the Fleet, paid the driver, and hurried inside to find Amelia. She had expected to see Paul Tenner lying flat on his back in one of the Fleet's narrow cots, well-sedated, and safe. She found Paul Tenner safe and comfortable, right enough, but he was far from being flat on his back and well-sedated. To the contrary, he was quite alert and sitting up—and pouring out his heart and soul to Amelia, much to the intent interest of the other two patients nearby. One of them, a middle-aged woman Maya had successfully treated for a compound fracture of the leg, caught Maya's eye and put her finger to her lips. From the washerwoman's expression, it was quite clear to Maya that the experienced eye of a long-time matchmaker had detected more between Amelia and Paul Jenner than the interest of a doctor in a patient.

Maya nodded, smiling a little, and withdrew quietly before either of the two could notice her. There was plenty of work for her to catch up on in the rest of the clinic The washerwoman's evaluation was confirmed for her an hour later, when the head nurse of the Fleet brought her a much-needed cup of tea after a round of sick and injured children had passed through her hands. 'Who is that young man Amelia brought in?' Sarah asked, eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. 'He's a bit above us, isn't he?'

Maya sat down on the stool in the examination cubicle and cradled the mug in both hands. 'Hmm—not in income, seeing as his employer tried to discharge him with a pack of dogs, then told everyone who would listen that he was mad,' Maya temporized. 'Amelia and I thought we'd get him out of harm's way—just in case. There's no way to trace him here, so I don't think you need to worry about him. We— and Doctor Reilly—made certain of that.'

Sarah's expression went from amused to shocked. 'Good heavens! But—well, you wouldn't have brought him here, miss, if you thought there was anything bad about him, would you?'

Strange—she works here, surrounded by some of the worst criminals and roughest characters in London, and yet she worries about this man? But Maya understood her concern. Even the worst wretch of the slums feared the mad, and even if Paul Jenner was as sane as Maya (and of course he was), a man who set a pack of dogs on another was ruthless enough to be very, very dangerous.

'It's all right, Sarah,' Maya interrupted gently. 'If there were any justice in the world, the shoe would be on the other foot, and Paul would be able to press legal charges against the wretch. He's a poor, good fellow that's been badly wronged by a very rich man, and we wanted to make sure no further harm came to him, that's all.'

Sarah sighed and nodded. 'And it's a bad world where a rich man can buy the harm of a poor one. There's no justice but in the hands of God,' she said piously. 'Well, Miss Amelia is that taken with the lad, I wouldn't want to see her feelings trifled with. Not—' she added hastily, at Maya's raised eyebrow, '—that he doesn't look and act every bit as taken with her. But you and I know that there are some men that are better actors than ever played on a stage when it comes to their dealings with women!'

'Not with half a grain of morphine in them,' Maya chuckled, finishing her tea. 'The old Romans had a saying that there was truth in wine—there's just as much truth in morphine, I think.'

'Well, that's the case, sure enough,' Sarah agreed, and laughed. 'Some of the things I've heard out of people's mouths when the drug's in them! Well, I just wanted to know what we were dealing with, miss, that's all. Now that I know, I won't worry.'

Maya thought about warning Sarah specifically about Simon Parkening, then thought better of it. Sarah knew enough now to be wary of rich men asking questions, and a rich man (or a rich man's servants) prowling about this neighborhood would stand out like pampered white spaniels in a dustbin.

And serve them right if they come to grief as well, if they come sniffing about here, she thought. I wouldn't mind seeing Simon Parkening bruised and bleeding and robbed of everything but his trousers.

She got to her feet; since Amelia was taking such proprietary care of 'the new lad,' someone would have to do the same for the rest of the patients—and that 'someone' was definitely Maya.

It would have been overstating the case to say that the disappearance of Paul Jenner from the ward caused an uproar. There were no orderlies searching the hospital, no policemen questioning the staff. When Maya returned the next day to check on Bill Joad, however, it was apparent that someone had been very upset about it, and had left signs of his agitation in the wards. The head nurse was sitting behind her desk with an expression of outraged innocence on her face, and stormclouds of temper on her brow that boded no good for anyone who crossed her today. Maya, however, had come armed, since she was expecting a tempest, and had brought some oil for the troubled waters in the form of a neat white pasteboard bakery box.

'Nurse Haredy,' she said cheerfully, as the head nurse looked up, hearing her footstep. 'You've been such a help with that old reprobate Bill Joad that I thought you were overdue for a treat for your tea by way of thanks.' She dropped the box on the desk with a smile, knowing that the aroma of fresh-baked sugar-biscuits was