Free Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster by Karen Lee Street Page B

a boot catch my ribs again. A shadow fell over me and with horror I saw the urchin’s face leaning over mine and felt someone’s hands pressing down upon my chest. My head began to sink and water seeped into my mouth—I thrashed and fought until finally I pulled myself into a sitting position. My gasps echoed through the tiled bathroom as I crouched in the tub, overcome by fear, until the water went cold and brought me back to myself. I realized that if I did not make haste, I would be late to meet Dupin, which would cause him to ask me questions I did not wish to answer.
    * * *
    Less than half an hour later, Dupin and I were seated by the front window of the Smyrna Coffee House, which looked out onto St. James’s Street. Although my gaze was directed toward the outside world, my mind was distracted by all that had happened to me earlier that day. And yet I did not confide inDupin, I know not why. Instead I waited to hear what conclusions he had drawn from his further study of the letters. He was smoking a cigar, and it was unclear whether he was looking through the glass or if his gaze was lost within the smoke. He had not said a word since we had greeted each other, but this behavior was not unusual. When Dupin did not wish to speak, he was simply silent. He cared little for the niceties of polite company, but something was different on this occasion. His silence was neither companionable nor distant. There was an edge of hostility to it.
    To distract myself from Dupin’s mood and my own fears, I tried to focus on the people jostling along outside. There were women of all kinds: the beauty in her prime; the heavily painted and bejeweled woman of later years presenting a façade of youth; and the child dressed to exceed her age, coquettish and sly. There were men of privilege striding confidently and drunkards in battered clothing moving with an unsteady swagger. An assortment of professions was represented on the street, from artisan to laborer.
    â€œIf you observe carefully enough, you will discern various tribes within the crowd,” Dupin said, breaking his silence at last. He pointed with his cigar at a small mob that had entered the coffee house. “Clerks,” he said, “but of a junior order.”
    I studied the young gentlemen in tight coats with brightly polished boots and well-oiled hair. This was a kind of game we had often played in Paris—Dupin would make a cryptic observation, and I would try to fathom his deductive processes before he inevitably proved himself correct.
    â€œAnd these here,” Dupin continued, “upper clerks of established firms.”
    Those Dupin had labeled junior clerks had a supercilious manner and their clothing was the very height of fashion eighteen months previously The upper clerks wore more somberclothes: brown or black pantaloons designed for comfort, coats, white cravats, waistcoats and solid shoes.
    â€œI see the differences in the dress of these characters, those being rather too flash and the others far more somber and restrained, but I cannot guess why you presume them to be clerks?”
    Dupin exhaled a fog of cigar smoke, adding to the patina on the windows, and waved a finger at the upper clerks. “Notice that these men all have somewhat balding heads. We have discussed their somber clothing. They all wear watches with short gold chains. The façade they strive for is respectability.”
    This was undeniable.
    â€œSee how their right ears are bent in a curious direction?” he continued.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThe oddness of their right ears is from habitually holding a pen behind them.”
    Dupin’s theory seemed as likely as any other to explain the clerks’ odd ears.
    â€œAnd this man here is of neither group. Indeed, he is accustomed to working alone.” Dupin indicated a man of dashing appearance who had an expression of excessive frankness. “Notice his voluminous