preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第18节

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　I　watched　with　unsettled　heart　as　he　descended　the　walk　and　stepped　into　an　omnibus。　I　pray　you　will　do　the　honor　of　understanding　me　when　I　say　that　Leng's　visit；　ing　upon　the　heels　of　such　strange　events　at　the　Cabinet；　had　precisely　the　opposite　effect　to　which　he　had　intended。　I　felt　now　more　sure　than　ever　that；　whatever　it　was　he　was　about；　it　would　not　stand　up　to　scrutiny　in　the　honest　light　of　day。
　I　fear　I　can　write　no　more　this　evening。　I　will　hide　this　letter　inside　the　elephant's…foot　box　that；　along　with　a　group　of　curiosities；　is　being　forwarded　to　you　at　the　Museum　in　two　days'　time。　God　willing；　I　will　find　the　fortitude　to　return　to　this　and　conclude　it　on　the　morrow。
　　
　July　13；　1881
　　
　I　must　now　summon　the　strength　of　will　to　plete　my　narrative。
　In　the　aftermath　of　Leng's　visit；　I　found　myself　in　the　grip　of　a　terrific　internal　struggle。　A　sense　of　scientific　idealism；　coupled　perhaps　with　prudence；　argued　that　I　should　take　the　man's　explanation　at　its　face　value。　Yet　another　inner　voice　argued　that　it　was　beholden　on　me；　as　a　gentleman　and　a　man　of　honor；　to　learn　the　truth　for　myself。
　At　last　I　resolved　to　discover　the　nature　of　the　man's　experiments。　If　they　proved　benign；　I　could　be　accused　of　inquisitiveness…nothing　more。
　Perhaps　you　will　consider　me　the　victim　of　unmanly　feelings　in　this　matter。　I　can　only　say　that　those　vile　crimson　drops　now　seemed　as　imprinted　upon　my　brain　as　they　had　been　upon　my　wrist　and　my　writing…paper。　There　was　something　about　Leng…about　the　manner　in　which　he　had　looked　at　me；　there　upon　my　doorstep…that　made　me　feel　almost　a　stranger　in　my　own　home。　There　was　some　manner　of　chill　speculativeness　behind　those　indifferent…looking　eyes　that　froze　my　blood。　I　could　no　longer　tolerate　having　the　man　under　my　roof　without　knowing　the　full　breadth　of　his　work。
　By　some　personal　caprice　unfathomable　to　me；　Leng　had　recently　begun　donating　his　medical　services　to　a　few　local　Houses　of　Industry。　As　a　result；　he　was　invariably　absent　from　his　chambers　during　the　latter　part　of　the　afternoon。　It　was　on　Monday　last；　July　11；　that　I　saw　him　through　the　front　windows　of　the　Cabinet。　He　was　crossing　the　avenue；　clearly　on　his　way　to　the　workhouses。
　I　knew　this　was　no　accident：　fate　had　afforded　me　this　opportunity。
　It　was　with　some　trepidation　that　I　ascended　to　the　third　floor。　Leng　had　changed　the　lock　on　the　door　leading　into　his　room；　but　I　retained　a　skeleton　key　which　turned　the　wards　and　unshot　the　bolt。　I　let　the　door　fall　open　before　me；　then　stepped　inside。
　Leng　had　decorated　the　front　room　into　the　semblance　of　a　parlor。　I　was　struck　by　his　choice　of　decoration：　gaudy　sporting　prints　were　on　the　walls；　and　the　tables　were　aclutter　with　tabloids　and　penny…dreadfuls。　Leng　had　always　struck　me　as　a　man　of　elegance　and　refinement；　yet　this　room　seemed　to　reflect　the　tastes　of　uncultured　youth。　It　was　the　sort　of　dive　a　pool…room　tramp　or　a　girl　of　low　breeding　would　find　inviting。　There　was　a　pall　of　dust　over　everything；　as　if　Leng　had　spent　little　time　in　the　parlor　of　late。
　A　heavy　brocade　curtain　had　been　hung　over　the　doorway　leading　into　the　rear　rooms。　I　lifted　it　aside　with　the　end　of　my　walking　stick。　I　thought　I　had　been　prepared　for　almost　anything；　but　what　I　found　was；　perhaps；　what　I　least　expected。
　The　rooms　were　almost　entirely　empty。　There　were　at　least　half　a　dozen　large　tables；　here　and　there；　whose　scarred　surfaces　bore　mute　testimony　to　hours　of　experimental　labor。　But　they　were　devoid　of　furnishing。　There　was　a　strong　ammoniac　smell　in　the　air　of　these　rooms　that　almost　choked　me。　In　one　drawer　I　found　several　blunt　scalpels。　All　the　other　drawers　I　examined　were　empty；　save　for　dust　mites　and　spiders。
　After　much　searching；　I　located　the　spot　in　the　floorboards　through　which　the　blood　had　seeped　a　few　nights　before。　It　seemed　to　have　been　etched　clean　with　acid；　aqua　regia；　judging　by　the　odor。　I　glanced　around　at　the　walls　then；　and　noticed　other　patches；　some　large；　others　small；　that　also　seemed　to　indicate　recent　cleaning。
　I　must　confess　to　feeling　rather　a　fool　at　that　moment。　There　was　nothing　here　to　excite　alarm；　nothing　that　would　rouse　the　faintest　trace　of　suspicion　in　even　the　most　perspicacious　policeman。　And　yet　the　sense　of　dread　refused　to　wholly　leave　me。　There　was　something　about　the　oddly　decorated　parlor；　the　smell　of　chemicals；　the　meticulously　cleaned　walls　and　floor；　that　troubled　one。　Why　were　these　hidden　back　rooms　clean；　while　the　parlor　had　been　allowed　to　gather　dust？
　It　was　at　that　moment　I　remembered　the　basement。
　Years　before；　Leng　had　asked；　in　an　offhand　way；　if　he　could　use　the　old　coal　tunnel　in　the　basement　for　storing　excess　laboratory　equipment。　The　tunnel　had　fallen　into　disuse　a　few　years　earlier；　with　the　installation　of　a　new　boiler；　and　I　had　no　need　of　it　myself。　I　had　given　him　the　key　and　promptly　forgotten　the　matter。
　My　feelings　on　descending　the　cellar　stairway　behind　the　Cabinet　can　scarcely　be　described。　On　one　occasion　I　halted；　wondering　if　I　should　summon　an　escort。　But　once　again；　sane　reasoning　prevailed。　There　was　no　sign　of　foul　play。　No…the　only　thing　for　it　was　to　proceed　myself。
　Leng　had　affixed　a　padlock　to　the　coal　cellar　door。　Seeing　this；　I　was　momentarily　overe　by　a　sense　of　relief。　I　had　done　my　utmost；　there　was　nothing　else　but　mount　the　stairs。　I　even　went　so　far　as　to　turn　around　and　take　the　first　step。　Then　I　stopped。　The　same　impulse　that　had　brought　me　this　far　would　not　let　me　leave　until　I　had　seen　this　bad　business　through。
　I　raised　my　foot　to　kick　in　the　door。　Then　I　hesitated。　If　I　could　contrive　to　remove　the　lock　with　a　pair　of　bolt　cutters；　I　reasoned；　Leng　would　think　it　the　work　of　a　sneak…thief。
　It　was　the　work　of　five　minutes　to　retrieve　the　necessary　implement　and　cut　through　the　hasp　of　the　lock。　I　dropped　it　to　the　ground；　then　pushed　the　door　wide；　allowing　the　afternoon　light　to　stream　down　the　stairway　behind　me。
　Immediately　upon　entering；　I　was　overwhelmed　with　far　different　sensations　than　those　that　had　gripped　me　on　the　third　floor。　Whatever　work　had　ceased　in　Leng's　chambers　was；　clearly；　still　active　here。
　Once　again；　it　was　the　odor　I　noticed　first。　As　before；　there　was　a　smell　of　caustic　reagents；　perhaps　mixed　with　formaldehyde　or　ether。　But　these　were　masked　by　something　much　richer　and　more　powerful。　It　was　a　scent　I　recognized　from　passing　the　hog　butcheries　on　Pearl　and　Water　Streets：　it　was　the　smell　of　a　slaughterhouse。
　The　light　filtering　down　the　rear　stairs　made　it　unnecessary　for　me　to　ignite　the　gas　lamps。　Here；　too；　were　numerous　tables：　but　these　tables　were　covered　with　a　plicated　sprawl　of　medical　instruments；　surgical　apparatus；　beakers；　and　retorts。　One　table　contained　perhaps　three　score　small　vials　of　light　amber　liquid；　carefully　numbered　and　tagged。　A　vast　array　of　chemicals　were　arranged　in　cabinets　against　the　walls。　Sawdust　had　been　scattered　across　the　floor。　It　was　damp　in　places；　scuffing　it　with　the　toe　of　my　boot；　I　discovered　that　it　had　been　thrown　down　to　absorb　a　rather　large　quantity　of　blood。
　I　knew　now　that　my　apprehensions　were　not　entirely　without　merit。　And　yet；　I　told　myself；　there　was　still　nothing　to　raise　alarm　here：　dissections　were；　after　all；　a　cornerstone　of　science。
　On　the　closest　table　was　a　thick　sheaf　of　carefully　jotted　notes；　gathered　into　a　leather…bound　journal。　They　were　penned　in　Leng's　distinctive　hand。　I　turned　to　these　with　relief。　At　last；　I　would　learn　what　it　was　Leng　had　been　working　towards。　Surely　some　noble　scientific　purpose　would　emerge　from　these　pages；　to　give　the　lie　to　my　fears。
　The　journal　did　no　such　thing。
　You　know；　old　friend；　that　I　am　a　man　of　science。　I　have　never　been　what　you　might　call　a　God…fearing　fellow。　But　I　feared　God　that　day…or　rather；　I　feared　his　wrath；　that　such　unholy　deeds…deeds　worthy　of　Moloch　himself…had　been　mitted　beneath　my　roof。
　Leng's　journal　spelt　it　out　in　unwavering；　diabolical　detail。　It　was　perhaps　the　clearest；　most　methodical　set　of　scientific　notes　it　has　been　my　eternal　misfortune　to　e　across。　There　is　no　kind　of　explanatory　gloss　I　can　place　upon　his　experiments；　nothing；　in　fact；　I　can　do　but　spell　it　all　out　as　plainly　and　succinctly　as　I　can。
　For　the　last　eight　years；　Leng　has　been　working　to　perfect　a　method　of　prolonging　human　life。　His　own　life；　by　evidence　of　the　notations　and　recordings　in　the　journal。　But…before　God；　Tinbury…he　was　using　other　human　beings　as　material。　His　victims　seemed　made　up　almost　entirely　of　young　adults。　Again　and　again；　his　journal　mentioned　dissections　of　human　craniums　and　spinal　columns；　the　latter　on　which　he　seems　to　have　focused　his　depraved　attentions。　The　most　recent　entries　centered　particularly　on　the　cauda　equina；　the　ganglion　of　nerves　at　the　base　of　the　spine。
　I　read　for　ten；　then　twenty　minutes；　frozen　with　fascination　and　horror。　Then　I　dropped　the　abhorrent　document　back　onto　the　table　and　stepped　away。　Perhaps　I　was　a　little　mad　at　that　point；　after　all；　because　I　still　contrived　to　find　logic　in　all　of　this。　Body…snatching　the　recent　dead　from　graveyards　is　an　unfortunate　but　necessary　practice　in　the　medical　cl