Frankenstein blinked at him. "Yes—some of them at least—one good set, certainly—why do you ask?"
"There is another market. The dentists use them sometimes, to implant in living jaws."
"Dentists?" Saville sniffed at the word. "Oh, yes, Frenchified tooth-drawers, I suppose you mean."
"I shall need at least one good complete set of teeth," said Victor. "Probably the largest sound specimens available. I care not what you do with the rest." I ran my tongue around inside my mouth; good solid work, like most of the rest of the construction.
My creator was now expressing his anxiety lest there should be any difficulty in getting just the kind of fresh young female specimens that he wanted. While considering this question, the group rose from the table, and went to the other table, where the canvas was drawn back. With the men's backs to me I could see little of the body now revealed to their inspection. It was described by its proprietors as a "large small," it being somewhat over three feet long. A child, from what I could observe of one puny marble leg.
"A bargain, gentlemen, I assure you." The elegant graverobber waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Only three guineas."
Saville drawled: "That is certainly excessive." He treated himself to a pinch of snuff.
Victor said firmly that in any case this particular body would be much too small, even if it had been fresh enough. He announced, with the air of one having to repeat something far too often, that his needs were special. He pulled the sheet up again, shrouding the trestle's burden, and turned away from it.
The two Londoners exchanged glances with each other. "Very fresh is sometimes difficult, sir," said the coarser one, "but not impossible. There's no problem in laying hands on any special kind of course a gentleman might want." He looked with a certain expression, meaningful and leering, at his companion.
The other nodded sagely, and remarked in elegant tones that he had heard before of gentlemen who put in orders for young girls freshly dead—he recalled, tolerantly, knowing someone in his own business who thought along quite similar lines.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Victor inquired sharply. I had thought the meaning was quite plain.
The languid ruffian turned over a hand, palm up; an elegant gesture of a wrist that had doubtless once worn lace. In his pallid face the hatred was quite plain.
A dispute quickly flared up, and as rapidly turned violent. At first it appeared that no one was armed, and the gentlemen were giving a good account of themselves in the game of fisticuffs, though Franken-stein did nothing but retreat dazedly into a corner. Presently, however, in response to an outcry from one of the professional graverobbers, the door leading to the adjoining room burst open and three more men rushed in, one of whom could have been described as a giant—in human terms at least. The other two were armed with wooden cudgels.
Captain Walton had at first been rather obviously enjoying the fight, but this change in the odds was a little too much for him. He drew and fired a pistol, but his shot missed.
My own immediate and overwhelming concern was that my creator must be protected at all costs_else my own future appeared bleak indeed. The danger to Frankenstein now appeared too great to be tolerated. I crouched and sprang up, bursting in through the window, to the great astonishment of all inside.
I had landed in a crouch on the floor of the shed; my first act after springing to my feet again was to reach the side of Frankenstein, and shove him protectively beneath a table. Then, bellowing like a beast, and hurling about furniture and bodies, living and dead, with a strength and violence quite sufficient to impress the enemy, I had in a matter of seconds routed them completely. The men with the cudgels had been given little chance to use them, and the giant had been lucky to escape.
Frankenstein, unharmed but trembling, was slow to emerge from his concealment, and appeared stunned when he came out into the candlelight again. Walton, for the first and only time, behaved toward me as to a fellow man, offering me congratulations and even his hand to shake. Saville did not extend himself that far, but I got a nod of approval from him, and a word or two, such as he might have bestowed upon a favorite dog or horse.
The field was ours. We were left in possession of a small stock of dead women and children, four or five bodies in all. Some of them, which I had not observed till now, were on another trestle table even deeper in the shadows of the room. All were ours now by right of possession, and even legally, if what the resurrectionists had said on that subject was true—I learned later that it was.
But a cursory examination by Frankenstein showed that none of the remains were at all suitable for his purposes. He was a different man, authoritative again, as he looked the bodies over.
I was not even chided for my disobedience in having left the ship and followed my supposed masters; and I was allowed to stand by, listening openly to the discussion. After all, the enemy might conceivably return, and I might once more be needed.
In the end we abandoned the field, not desiring to retain any of the spoils. The only practically useful thing to come out of the episode was a suggestion by Walton, that struck him while looking at the corpses. It was that hogsheads of brine might be just the thing in which to keep our merchandise when it was finally obtained. Such containers could be loaded aboard his ship and transported to our final destination without alarming the sailors who did the work; there would be no need to inform them of the true nature of the cargo.
But on that night we returned empty-handed to the ship. Whatever scheme was decided upon would have to be put into practice later, with the help of another and more tractable crew of resurrectionists.
Such was my first night in London.
I am pushing on to the south. But first I shall take the time to bid a last solemn au revoir to Father Jacques.
LETTER 1
October 17,1782
To: The Honorable Benjamin Franklin
Hotel de Valentinois, Passy, France
Honored Sir and Parent—
Let me begin by adding my own small congratulations to those that must be pouring in upon you from all corners of Europe and America, on your success in representing the cause of our fledging nation (for I believe we must eventually be no less than that) with the French. Since Yorktown a year ago there has been no doubt that King George must eventually come to serious negotiations; and I have no doubt that when that time arrives you will represent us admirably in dealings with the English Crown.
I have read with care your instructions regarding the investigation you wish carried out of the strange events involving the Frankenstein family of Geneva. I appreciate the fact of your personal acquaintance with the family, and your resulting interest. Naturally I shall do my best.
Indeed, if it were not for your personal knowledge of some of the participants, and the assurances you give me regarding them, I would be inclined to regard the whole matter—the supposed facts, as you state them—as a hoax. But you are my employer as well as my begetter, and I am sure you do not mean to waste my time or your own upon a chimera.