On the other side of the corridor we were wheeled into a somewhat larger chamber, Seward closing and locking the door when we were all in. As we entered, a strange smell assailed my nostrils. At first I thought of open drains, but there was in this stench a peculiar muskiness that quickly brought to mind the idea of an unclean zoo.
When Seward brought his lamp into the room I saw the animal responsible, and at first could not believe my eyes. Crouched in a metal cage against the farther wall was a creature bigger than a large hound, yet unmistakably a rodent. Its feral eyes gleamed redly at me in the lamplight, and its snout twitched, before it turned away to pace its cage, on feet repulsively naked-looking below the matted fur covering its legs.
Averting my gaze from this disgusting sight, I saw with mixed sensations that Holmes' eyelids were now open. His eyes looked flat and lifeless, and they wandered aimlessly, showing the continuing effects of the drug Seward had injected, rather than any understanding of our predicament. Seward set down his lamp upon a table, and now, also seeing that Holmes was awake, came over to offer a light bow. "Mr. Holmes. I am very glad to meet you—I was about to say, even under these unhappy circumstances. But then, from my point of view, it would be easy enough to imagine our meeting under circumstances infinitely worse."
Holmes' eyes moved dreamily to focus on the face which hovered over him. His lips formed a word, scarcely audible: "Who—?"
Seward smiled again. "You may call me Jack. Why not? We are about to establish a very intimate relationship—unless you, Dr. Watson, are ready now to begin to talk to me? No? Too bad."
Our captor walked over to the cage, and there turned back to face us. "Would it surprise you gentlemen to learn that a large part of this animal's diet is human flesh? Poor Scott, when he caught the beast, was having a difficult time providing its accustomed fare… not a lot of plague victims around just then. As usual, those of us who scrupled less accomplished more—as soon as we had taken over his camp, Scott himself went along the path that you may take. He went rather quickly, however, whereas you will not… and all for the lack of a few words."
He paused, looking from one of us to the other. "Well, Mr. Holmes? Come, no need to look so dazed, I know you are awake now. Have you nothing to tell us yet about your work and Scotland Yard's? For example, where have you been looking for my infected rats? Ah, it is too bad you do not answer, for it means that I must begin to feed Dr. Watson here to the Rat. Campbell, come here and remove the doctor's shoes. Feet first will be best; that way good old Watson will remain able to join in our conversation. We shall have all night to discuss my questions; my departure for France will not take place until dawn."
Another of the burly attendants had now come into the room, and with the one already present started to take off my boots. Looking down past my own feet, I could see the slavering animal pacing in its cage. Holmes' voice, in the form of an unrecognizable croak, now issued at last from his parched lips. "Why not… to the fleas?"
Seward frowned; evidently this particular reaction was not one he had anticipated. "But my dear sir, surely you realize that the time for experiments with fleas is past?… I see, you pretend ignorance so I shall think it a waste of time to question you. No, Holmes, that is a rather pathetic effort, and it won't do; I have too much respect for your powers. You must realize that by now I have obtained my thousand rats and they are ready, filled with plague from this my walking reservoir." He tapped on the bars of the cage, and the creature within bared its yellow teeth and strained against the barrier on my side. Its eyes were fixed on my bound and helpless figure, as if it were used to this procedure, and knew what to expect next.
Seward went on: "Before we depart for France we shall launch my thousand rats into the London sewers, where in a day or two they will begin to sicken and die. In a week a million rats will be infected, and in a week after that, possibly a million men, women, and children. A pity you and the damned bloodsucker did not allow us a chance, here in London, to arrange a foolproof system for collecting our ransom—but in the next city the authorities will be not at all stiff-necked about paying; not with the example of the world's greatest metropolis fresh before them. You'll be in no position to interfere, next time, and if Dracula continues to take an interest I'll find a way to deal with him—perhaps he would not refuse a partnership."
He was interrupted by a rattle at the door, which in the next moment was unlocked from outside. It swung open to admit the man Holmes had already identified as Dr. David Fitzroy. Fitzroy's mustache had been shaved off, and a pair of sideburns were under cultivation since I had seen him at Barley's, but still I had no difficulty in recognizing him again.
Exchanging terse greetings with Seward, he crossed the room to draw a blind over the window—the last faint rays of the sun were just disappearing there, and my heart sank at the thought that I should probably never see it again. Coming back, Fitzroy cast a single, impersonal glance at me, then paused to look down at my companion. "So," he murmured, "this is what the greatest detective in London looks like. But you know, I have the feeling that I've seen him before."
Seward at once changed the subject. "You have the extra serum with you? Just in case any of us should need a dose?"
"Yes—there are only six of us left now, I believe? I saw Day and Morley upstairs, and here are Campbell and the Pincher."
"That's right."
"Then there's plenty." And Fitzroy indicated a small black bag he had brought in with him and set down on the table. The two muscular attendants, who had been following this portion of the conversation with special interest, now nodded with satisfaction. They had completed the task of removing my boots, and were standing one on each side of my cart, ready to push it up to the cage when their masters should command them.
I thought Seward was on the point of giving that command, but Fitzroy held him for a moment with a gesture. "We're all ready for departure, then. The other cage for the Rat is aboard the launch, and the launch is fueled and ready. We'll just stop at the old place to release the rats into the sewers, and then be on our way for France. But what about—?" And he motioned toward the upstairs.
"My guests? What about them?" Seward asked coolly.
"Well, the other day you mentioned the possibility of one more person coming with us, and I saw you talking to the woman then, and I thought…"
Seward turned away. "No, I care nothing about her. Let her stay and enjoy the plague with the rest of London."
Just at this point, I was startled by a low moaning or keening sound, proceeding from the still figure lying at my side. When I looked toward Holmes, his dazed expression had not altered, though his eyes were now fixed on Seward. The strange wail issued from my companion in a way that made my hair start to rise on end—then it cut off abruptly, and he muttered a few words that I could not make out.
Seward and Fitzroy both hurried to his cart, where they bent over him on either side, straining to hear better. But hardly had they done so, when Seward abruptly straightened again. Following the direction of his suddenly staring eyes, I saw with blank incomprehension that Holmes' right arm had somehow come free of its shackle—the steel ring was still closed, and fixed to the cart, but it no longer held his wrist.