Effigy

„As if predestination overruled/

Their will, disposed by absolute decree/

Or high foreknowledge"

Paradise Lost

The water of the Seine flowed dark and sluggish beneath the gilded arches of the Pont de la Concorde. He flicked a cigarette end over the parapet and watched it flutter down into the unhurried flood. It touched the waves as a faint white speck, and was carried out of his sight, below the bridge. Moving slow as the water that was passing deep down underneath his feet, he lit another one and smoked it, leaning against one of the iron-wrought lamp posts, whilst around him, the City began to stir.

It began with a low hum, the distant rumble of wheels and the call of coarse voices - the milkmen, the scavengers, the market workers flowing toward Les Halles and the Marché St. Germain. He closed his eyes, concentrating. In his mind, he raised both arms, conducting the rising swell. New instruments joined in at each moment, the clatter of hooves, the monotonous call of newspaper boys, the drunken slur of night-birds turning in late. A barge wheezing up the river. His hands motioned faster, speed increasing at the same time with volume. The signal horn of an early omnibus hooted as it rolled over the bridge. The feet of increasingly more pedestrians pattered on the pavement. The first metro train of the day shook the ground beneath. And then -

Arms flung apart win his mind, he opened his eyes: Here he was, among the traffic in one of the busiest places of one of the liveliest cities in Europe. The vapour that had earlier hung above the water had cleared away, and the sky grew lighter and lighter every moment. And his smoke….it had consumed itself between his fingers. Very well. He turned and tossed it over the parapet, as he had done with the last. It was caught up by a small eddy, swirling three, four times before it was soaked, and sank.

He stuck another cigarette between his lips - how many had he smoked? He couldn't remember - but forgot to light it, and, resting both hands on the stone parapet, stared into the distance, as if a reason were written across the horizon why he was standing here in the chill morning air, hour after hour.

Certainly, the occasion called for more than cursing oneself as a damned fool. Yes, yes. Of course he knew. He had provoked her deliberately - had wanted her to flare up, wanted her to fly into a passion. It was a kind of irrational behavior he did not known he was guilty of…and yet! He had sensed something like this would happen, he had waited for it without anticipating it. Rationality would have dictated his abandonment of the case at the very moment she had entered the scene. But he had flattered himself he was in control of everything, had proudly stuck with the task they had consigned to him, and yes, he had wanted her of course.

Even here, even now, some part of him insisted that he go back to the warm, accursedly romantic room where he had left her and, if she were still there, have her a second time. And that was the truth! He smiled bitterly. What a despicable old man he had become. Kitty had been too young for him, but Fanny, with her twenty-odd years, was a child in comparison to him. And as if that were not enough, she had once been on the verge of calling him `uncle`! A pain flickered in his chest at the thought - was that shame? At any rate, he was glad Kitty was not here to see him thus. She would loathe what he had done to her niece, and to himself.

oooOOOooo

I woke up to a glimmer of gold through my slowly parting lashes, and a concomitant sense of nausea. It had happened, then! Beneath the lavishly gilded ceiling, all my stratagems to make myself believe otherwise came to naught. Oh God!

I dropped my head to the other side, hand wiping the hair back from my forehead. It grazed the remains of my ruined stays, situated somewhere to the side of my head and to all intents and purposes knotted into the twisted sheets. I knew I had to properly open my eyes sometime soon. Pray let him not be there!

He was not there. I sat up tall to make quite sure. He was not there, or at least not anywhere near the bed. I pumped my legs to get rid of the sheet that had also twisted around my ankle. With an almost inaudible Swish!, one of my stockings sailed to the floor. Oh God!

I dropped my disheveled head into both of my hands, pressing my eyes shut in a pain that was, indeed, physical. What the god-damned deuce had I got myself into? I might well look like my Aunt Cathy, but, curse it, I was not her and I had no business to drop into her widowers bed like a ripe apple!

There was a noise somewhere. I scrambled frantically, wide awake and fully aware of my nudity. A knock on the door - I gasped, and snatched a sheet to press against my form. The valet! He tried three more times, after which he desisted, and I sighed my heartfelt relief. At least I knew now I was alone in the suite. Still, what a wretched disaster!

I collapsed back onto the bed, and sat biting my nails. Situations got out of hand I dreaded more than the plague, in consequence I rarely had them. This just was not the kind of thing that happened to a girl like me! And yet, I suspected that the same went for him - had I ever known him to lose control? Was not everything that happened to him well calculated?

He had manipulated me. Yes, I was sure of it. It was not just the alcohol, rather, it was everything else - the candles, the talk, the mellow pleasantness of it all and the appealing contrast to the sudden menace…oh, it had been a game, his game, and I had not seen it! I would not even have credited him with such a scheme.

But it had been worse than useless, it had been infamy. He could not get from me what he wanted. Kitty, Kitty. She had been on his mind. He had made a simulacrum of me, the unwitting look-alike, to worship in lieu of the deity. What a bleeding fool I had been. I could not even be angry with him in the face of such fatuity.

It remained for me to escape from this place unnoticed. My clothes were more or less in rags; I picked them up from the bed and the floor respectively. The S-bend absurdity I had been so proud of consisted now of a collection of panels loosely chained together by the broken seams, and I wrapped it around my torso and tied the lacing as best I could. The rest of my underwear, when found beneath the bed, appeared intact, and I put it on quickly.

Another things was, he knew I had not told him all - had known it all along, maybe. I hesitated to think of the implications. I had walked with him, talked to him, thinking all the while I could hide away some things in the vaults of my memory, and never let him know. Probably I had amused rather than outwitted him. I set my teeth, tortured by the humiliation. And speaking of which -

I had slipped what remained of my dress over my head, and stepped in front of the armoire, peering into the looking glass. A pale, thin woman stared back, unruly with a lot of auburn hair hanging around her head, and dressed in things that might as well have been handed out by the poor relief. How could I get away without being seen?

I applied a few touches to my hair and apparel, but did not do much good. The tear I had had in my dress the other day was nothing in comparison to the state of my costume. The deep slash in the back of my muslin frock I had poorly mended with a few safety pins, but I still looked a roughly-used harlot, and whoever saw me would take me for exactly that.

On tiptoe, I went to the door, and opened it an inch or so. Nobody was to be seen, so I opened it wider, and peeped into the hallway. It was empty. I saw my chance, and took it. A few swift steps brought me to the elevator. The lift boy, of course, could not be avoided, but he did not look twice, and I presumed he had known guests to order a girl up to their room, and was used to pretty much everything.

Nervously, I kneaded my fingers as we sank lower and lower toward the ground floor. I was glad I had avoided him. I knew we had to see one another again, of course….and things would have been easier, much easier, if talked over at once. I ought to have been brave, and waited for his return to confront him with my thoughts. Next time, everything would be a thousand times more difficult. But I was a coward, and I could not. I just could not.

All too soon, the screening doors of the elevator parted, and the hotel vestibule lay before me. I closed my eyes, stepped out and opened them again. It was a busy hour, and there was quite a bustle in the entrance area. I walked staidly, not too fast, not too slow, and realized gladly that nobody really paid attention to me. What a mercy I had got into this rush!

A few more steps, and I would be at liberty. In the street, the figure I cut would not even be noticed. I inhaled deeply to prepare for my passage past the footmen, when I chanced to turn my head to the left, where the concierge had his cabin. The vile person! Of course he was there, and of course he saw me. His eyes met mine exactly, and his mouth curled in derision.

With a leap, I exited the hotel, feeling the sharp glance of the doorman in my back. Tears of abasement burnt in my eyes, and I fled into the crowd, a longed-for harbor of anonymity. I, Frances Morris, had since my childhood hoped never more to be the laughing stock of the prosperous, highbred, and well-dressed.

oooOOOooo

My day, begun unter the least favorable auspices, continued to be awful. Having changed clothes, I arrived at work twenty minutes late. Madame already waited for me, and I anticipated the worst. Her dark eyebrows were raised ominously.

„Mademoiselle Morris! This will have to stop."

„I am so sorry, Madame. On my way, I realized there was a stain on my sleeve, so I had to return home to get changed - „

She waved my excuse away. „That is not the point. Superintendent Dulage is waiting for you in my office. Pray, how many times more will he come? The clients are getting annoyed with his presence. If he and you have any more affairs to settle between you, I suggest you do it somewhere else, and out of business hours."

Over her shoulder, I could see some of the girls sniggering. Of course, they had listened avidly to Madame scolding me. Her suggestion that I had dealings with André Dulage that had to be relegated to my leisure time had fallen on fertile ground. Their sneering faces told me so.

I raised my chin. „This is the last time, Madame. I will make it plain to Monsieur Dulage."

And I went stiffly, with shoulders drawn up. There was more than one reason why I objected to his call myself. One of those was the fact that on our last meeting, I had fainted and ended up on the couch in his office, with him administering sal volatile to me.

He waited, his lower back leaning into Madame's bureau, as handsome and genial as ever. We exchanged quick greetings. The incident at the Sûrété was not mentioned.

„Monsieur Dulage, I am afraid you cannot continue coming `ere. Ye must see the difficulties yer calls occasion fer me…me employer is a tolerant person, but there are boundaries to `er patience. Please un`erstand that I am liable ter certain considerations."

„Of course, I can see your point." Dulage nodded sympathetically. „And I can promise that in the unlikely event I will have to question you again, we will arrange for a meeting at the Sûrété. However, I am also have my bounden duties as regards the case."

„Certainly. Well, what is it you wanted ter ask me terday? I can `ardly conceive of any aspect o` the matter we didn't talk o`er yet."

He smiled an endearingly bashful smile. „Indeed, Miss Morris. And still, in the light of the latest developments I have to trouble you yet again. I am talking about a charge against two anonymous intruders, pressed by the doorman of some oriental congregation somewhere in the faubourg. The connection with our present case is that Madame Zhao was a member of this society, and reportedly the trespassers questioned some of the guests about her."

„Re`lly", I replied, feeling my cheeks color a little.

„The man gave a detailed description of the strangers", Dulage continued with his bashful smile still in place. „The only thing I need to know, Miss Morris, is whether you have formed any idea of what Madame Zhao's position was in this congregation, what she really did there. The chairpersons were very reserved on this point."

„I am afraid I cannot help ya", I said, my head ever hotter. „I don't know more than you do."

„Pray think, Miss Morris. Did Madame Zhao never talk about the activities of this circle? Think hard. Is it possible that certain techniques are being practiced there, such as meditation, or maybe strategies that would render her resistant to great hardships?"

I shrugged. „I must say I can't follow you. She is not any sort of magician, if that is what ya means."

„No, no. Assurément." He glanced down at the tips of his feet. „I was just wondering. The East has figures out many skills that we don't know the first thing about. Maybe there is more to Madame Zhao than meets the eye - it would be useful to know if she possessed psychic powers, hypnosis, mesmerism, things like that."

„Not that I am aware of. And now, if you will excuse me, I need to go back to work. Haven't sown a stitch terday."

As if to confirm my idleness, Madame Martinez burst into the room. „Mademoiselle Morris!"

„I am `ere, Madame."

„I need you to go to Le Chat Noir tonight. The Comtessa di Moncada is in town for her honeymoon tour - and I have information she is certain to see the shadow play there tonight. She will be incognito, but you will know her."

She shoved a photograph into my hand that showed a fashionable young woman engaged in horse riding.

„You must get a glance at her costume, and make a sketch for me. Whatever she wears, we will make a copy. Eight thirty tonight!"

And she went out, calling over her shoulder, „Are you still here, Superintendent?"

André Dulage coughed quietly and took his hat. At the door, he stopped and turned around. „By the way - your friend Monsieur Holmes, what does he make of the whole thing? Has he made any comment on it?"

I crossed my arms. The sound of Holmes' name was exceedingly unwelcome at present. „I do not know. Why don't ye ask him yerseln?"

„Ah, but you are right. Good day, Miss Morris." And he disappeared through the door. I could see him all the way down the street from the window, walking farther and farther away with his weird, pigeon-toed gait.

Hi ppl!

I really enjoyed writing, and hope you will enjoy reading. See you soon for the next chapter!

Best, Mrs. F