William M Cullen The Printer's Vampyr (retail) (pdf)

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Oil was a little hard to find tho looking coarsely at the Rector.
My apologies, said the Rector, as Ebenezer and the two men who
were with him began handing out torches to the other men.
Realizing something that needed to be done, I addressed Ebenezer,
Eb, I know you and your horse have been on the run all day but would
you be so kind and go and get the King s men, as many as you can get.
Tell them you are requesting them on behalf of Mr. Watt, and tell them
all that you know; and you may certainly tell them we may have found
the killer s lair.
Aye, Mr. Franklin, said Ebenezer, taking off.
220 THE PRINTER S VAMPYR
All right men, exclaimed Mr. Trundle, igniting his torch from a
nearby altar candle, let s search this tunnel out, and be thorough mind
you.
Aye, aye sir, said the men queuing up at the tunnel door, each
forming into groups of three or four in order to share a torch, giving us
a half-dozen teams; and as they began making their way down the stairs
they ignited their torches from Mr. Trundle s, being mindful of the
tapestry.
Anything else I can do while you search the tunnel? asked the
Rector patiently.
Show the King s Guards where we are, I said.
Will do, he replied. And with that he took to his office.
Ben, said Mr. Trundle, who was halfway down the stairs with
Wygate, noticing something shiny on the left-side wall of the staircase.
Aye John, what is it? I asked after him as I began my descent with
Vyola.
There s another blood smear, here on the staircase wall, holding
up his torch, pointing towards a moist smudge on the left-face of the
staircase wall.
Excellent, I said, igniting my torch from Mr. Trundle s, we should
have a nice blood trail to follow then, indicating we should move along
and catch-up with the others. In fact, I began, desiring to continue my
point about blood as Vyola and I made our way down, wishing to catch
up with Mr. Trundle and Wygate, who were at the bottom of the stairs
coughing; and as Vyola and I arrived we began hacking and coughing as
well from the awful stench.
The stench was bad. I figured it was stale air since the tunnel had
been closed off all these years and it would just take us a few moments
to adjust; and as we stood there, adjusting to the smells, we noticed,
off to our right, a locked wrought-iron gate just a few feet away. Mr.
Trundle checked it and then shook it, finding it to be sturdy, tho a
few scurrying rats were making their way through; obviously, they were
not appreciating our intrusion into their habitat; and Vyola was not
appreciating seeing them for she let out an anxious cry followed by her
hiding behind me until they all passed by.
Apparently, St. James was the next stop down from Cavendish
Square; and if an emergency up above had warranted it, they could move
further on down towards the River Thames.
WILLIAM M. CULLEN 221
The tunnel itself was made of leftover stone and concrete from the
rebuilding of London after the Great Fire. It was approximately two
meters tall at best and just a under a meter and half wide, just wide
enough for two people to walk abreast of each other, or to move a small
cart through if necessary. Plus, I surmised we were a good twenty feet
below the surface.
As we moved along I recalled what I was going to say about finding
additional blood smears. Oh, if you happen to see any more blood on
the walls please don t touch it.
Why? asked Vyola, still coughing a bit from the stench that still
lingered in the air.
Fingerprints my dear, replying in earnest.
Fingerprints? said Mr. Trundle, slightly bewildered. What about
em? glancing at his own fingertips with a curious look.
They re distinctive John.
Distinctive?
Aye, no two are alike.
I know what distinctive means Ben; however, we don t have time for
such rubbish, looking quite annoyed with me.
Seriously John, it s not rubbish; it s science. Please allow me to
explain.
As if I could stop you, showing me a contemptuous look. All right,
but be quick about it for I am in no mood to waste time.
I geared up my story as we continued to move along. Back when I
was an apprentice . . .
Oh . . . moaned John. I couldn t tell if it was from his pain or he
thought I was going to tell a rather involving tale, or both; however, I
continued on as planned.
Back when I was an apprentice to my brother James I had noticed
fingerprints everywhere in his shop due to the men having ink all over
their hands.
Yeah, so? said Mr. Trundle, his pain obviously getting to him a bit.
Well, I had observed that each finger of each hand made a different
print, meaning no two were ever alike; and I proved it too.
You did? exclaimed Vyola cheerfully, appreciating hearing
something positive, How did you do that?
Well, I set out three plain tankards, each made of pewter, and
filled them with beer. Then, I asked one of men to go over and have a
drink after I had left the room; and when I came back in I was able to
222 THE PRINTER S VAMPYR
determine, with some dusting powder, who had had taken a drink each
time.
Each time? replied Vyola, intrigued by the idea.
Aye; each time I said, emphasizing my words. Now, adding
to my point, having the opportunity, thanks to the members of the
Scriblerus Club (Mr. Trundle grumbled something about the Club, but
I ignored it), I have been able read up about fingerprint theory; and what
I have learned was that there was a professor back in 1686, one Marcello
Malpighi, who had said that fingerprints have distinct ridges, loops and
swirls, indicating the tips of my own fingers to Vyola and Wygate as
Mr. Trundle continued to lead the way for us. And Malpighi cited a 14th [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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