Beloved Poison Read Online Free Page B

a risk of looking doltish. As for opening a window, I knew Mrs Speedicut shut them again the moment I left the place. There was the men’s foul ward . . . But he would never have the stomach for that. Granted, it would be dark – the foul ward was always dimly lit. Faces suppurating with chancres, teeth loose and black, all these might be less visible in the gloom. Nonetheless, the foul ward was, at times, unspeakable.
    On the far side of the courtyard I noticed Dr Catchpole standing in the shadows. He was joined by Dr Graves, and together they vanished into a doorway. ‘Come along, Mr Quartermain,’ I said, starting after them. ‘Let’s start over here.’
    The anatomy museum was on the top floor of a tall building, built during the reign of George I and accessed by a winding stone staircase. Above us, though out of sight, I could hear Dr Graves and Dr Catchpole still ascending.
    ‘Damn the man,’ I heard Dr Graves say. ‘Damn the man and his damnable arrogance. Speaking to me like that in front of Magorian. In front of students! Last week he wanted to coat the amputees’ stumps with tar. Tar! Magorian was all for it! Confounded arrogance. Can’t think why Magorian panders to him.’
    ‘Can’t think why anyone panders to him,’ replied Dr Catchpole. ‘Can’t see his appeal at all.’
    ‘There must be
something
we can do.’
    ‘I can’t think what.’
    ‘
I
can,’ muttered Dr Graves.
    ‘Hoots toots mon!’ said Dr Catchpole. ‘Will ye no try ma tarr mixture on yer amputations, the noo?’ He tittered. Dr Bain had done the first year of his medical education in Edinburgh. He had not the slightest trace of a Scottish accent, but Dr Catchpole seemed to think it witty to pretend that he had.
    Dr Graves said nothing.
    ‘Oh, come now, Graves,’ said Dr Catchpole. ‘Magorian is not as enamoured of him as you seem to think.’
    ‘Isn’t he?’ Dr Graves spat out the words. ‘He seems to be happy to accommodate Bain’s ideas, even if it means making me look foolish. I’ve not done Magorian’s bidding for all these years to be made to look stupid in front of my own students.’
    ‘You can’t blame him—’
    ‘I don’t. Bain chose the moment. He has a habit of humiliating his colleagues in the most unassuming ways. You know
that
much yourself.’
    ‘Yes,’ Dr Catchpole sighed. ‘I live with the consequences every day.’
    ‘You’re still suffering?’ asked Dr Graves.
    I did not hear Dr Catchpole’s reply.
    ‘There’s no shame in it,’ said Dr Graves. ‘What you did that night, Catchpole, you did for science. For medicine. You did it to find out the truth.’
    ‘I did it without thinking,’ said Dr Catchpole. ‘Just as Bain knew I would.’ His voice was bitter. ‘I made a mistake. He knew I would react as I did. He was so provoking! And now, now—’
    ‘Now he has ruined your life.’
    ‘And there is also the matter of my wife. She is besotted with him—’ Dr Catchpole broke off. I could hear the wretchedness in his voice. And, for all that I disliked him, I could not help but feel sorry for the man.
    The door to the library slammed closed, and they were gone.
    ‘It seems Dr Bain has something of a reputation,’ said Will. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear—’
    ‘Oh – yes,’ I said, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping so blatantly.
    ‘Has he ruined Dr Catchpole’s life?’
    ‘In a manner of speaking.’ We entered the anatomy museum. The room was large, illuminated by a long glass skylight overhead. Before us stretched row upon row of bottles and jars, inside each, a flabby-looking lump of flesh – organs, limbs, heads, eyeballs, ears – growths and deformities of all kinds, all with that pale, uncooked look that all specimens get once they are bottled in preserving fluids.
    ‘How?’ whispered Will, staring round in disbelief at this silent, globular audience. ‘How has he ruined Dr Catchpole’s life? Is it because of Mrs Catchpole’s