CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Greeley parted the canvas flap which served as a door and peered inside the tent.

The elephant keeper sat in the dust while Henry hunched in a chair in front of a cracked mirror. A candle shone on his white face as he slowly rubbed in a salve to darken his skin.

They were surrounded by the dark canvas walls of a makeshift circus which Henry had persuaded the authorities to let him maintain at the zoo. As before, Greeley had reluctantly agreed to meet Henry here. Greeley was in a worse mood than last time. At least he hadn't spent the previous night drinking champagne. He had just come from his meeting with Constable, and the man's promise to help him toward a knighthood seemed unreliable. Doubt gnawed at him like an ulcer. Also, he was trying to get up his nerve to propose to Lillian.

To procrastinate, he had come here, even though the note from Henry had said, "Come by any afternoon this week. The show starts at six."

Henry caught sight of Greeley. "Ah, you've come. Good. I'll be right with you; just let me finish this face job." He then ignored Greeley and continued with his makeup as if he were some transcendent opera star. "Ajit, how are the ticket sales tonight?" he asked the dark man.

"Sir, yes. No sales."

"Damn you. Were there sales or not?"

"No crowd comes anymore. Less each night. Wounded monkey died today." Ajit went over to the elephant and started painting the tips of its tusks with a blue wash. The elephant held its head very still.

"I suppose the whole bloody city will be dead of cholera before long, eh Greeley? Then we can have it to ourselves. You, me and the elephant. We didn't need so many monkeys, anyway. Shooting them was well worth the sport."

Ajit didn't answer, nor did Greeley.

"Did you make it to Brook Street today?" asked Henry. Greeley almost answered, then he realized the question was addressed not to him but to Ajit. Brook Street was where Lillian and Olympia lived.

"Sir, yes." The dark man splashed some of the blue water by mistake and it trickled down the elephant's trunk, dripping into the dust.

"Well? Did you watch?"

"Of course. The older lady not going out. The young lady went out. Went to house of the doctor again."

Henry seemed unaffected by this news, but it interested Greeley. He hadn't known Lillian was ill.

"And, sir, a man walked by three times. He waited but did not go in."

Henry stopped the face work and sat up. "The devil. What man? What time? This is just the kind of thing I wanted you to tell me straight away, and here it is eight o'clock at night!"

"You were not here. A plain man, Britain man. Less hair. Rich man. Morning time."

Henry pulled open a drawer in the table and took out a packet of paper, bound up with thin pink ribbon. He flipped through the letters, peeled one off, and tossed it at Greeley, who had to retrieve it from the floor.

"Take a look at that, Greeley. But wait; perhaps you didn't know that our Lillian had taken up the cause of that Dr. Snow?"

"That's who the doctor is?" Greeley felt confused and vaguely jealous. "What's she doing with him?"

Henry was apparently still too agitated by Ajit's news to finish his face job. He paced around in the small space. "God only knows. Probably some social work. Or it may be that the poor devil is in love with her. He hasn't a chance. She's above his level, But that's not important, and it has nothing to do with what you've got in your hand."

"Sir, there is more. Please. I followed this man, as you asked." Ajit sounded hurt. "He pondered a thing."

"How do you know that?"

"Not difficult. His hands went like so." Ajit worked his hands in exaggerated tension, the fingers pulling each other like thick rope. "And he muttered, he sweated, he wiped his brow and his bare head."

"Did you follow him home?"

"Sir, not home. He received to office. To the House of Westminster. Tomorrow I show you."

Henry turned his face up to the ceiling, gazing at nothing with an ecstatic smile. "Tonight, the plan can begin. Finally."

Then, more sober, he went back to the table and finished his face oils. "That's who I'm worried about, Greeley. Sir Philip Constable's after her." He looked brown and bizarre. Only a dim-witted child would take him for anything but an Englishman with face paint. "But I'll throw a cog in his works. One look at these letters and he'll throw her over in an instant." He faced Greeley full-on now, his eyes too wide and very white. "And it's me she'll turn to, you'll see."

Soon it would be time for the show to start. The elephant waved his trunk gently. Ajit sighed and picked up the brush.

Greeley still hadn't opened the letter. It was crisp and yellowed at the edges.

"Go on," said Henry. "Read it." He smiled, his teeth too white in the brown, smeared face.

Greeley unfolded the thing.

September 5,1843

At first it meant nothing to Greeley. His only response was a vague distaste that Henry should show him such a thing. Then the realization hit him.

Philip. Constable and Lillian. Greeley had seen their meeting at Lady Tewksbury's. And Greeley knew something Henry probably didn't; that Constable had spent time in India. It took Greeley a long moment to believe it, but it must be true. And then he realized that Henry didn't know yet; Henry thought it was a coincidence that both men were named Philip.

Henry started laughing. "Yes, that's right. Our young lady." He reached out and deftly snatched back the letter.

"But Bince, don't you realize..." Greeley couldn't believe Henry hadn't made the connection. "These letters can't help you at all." Even as he said it, Greeley realized that the letters could, on the other hand, help him a great deal.

"What the devil do you mean?"

"If you wanted to blackmail Constable they might get you somewhere. But you can hardly make the man spit on the girl by showing him his own love letters to her."

Henry stared at Greeley, his mouth open slightly. "You mean—this ‘Philip' — Constable —"

"You didn't know the fellow was in India for five years? These are his letters. They must have been doing it on the sly."

Henry didn't answer. The muscles of his face were slack. Greeley had never seen a man, sane or not, look so disappointed. "You have no idea how long I'd planned — these letters were like gold to me." To Greeley's horror, Henry began to cry, his face twisting out of its handsome lines.

Despite his distaste, Greeley went and sat next to the other man, put an arm around him. "Buck up, old fellow. Things will look up," he said, forcing himself to stroke Henry's shoulder. "Besides, I have a plan."