The Wrong Girl(37)

Jack had indeed entered a narrow street through an archway. We paused at its entrance, then when we saw him walking up ahead, we continued on. The houses changed. They were smaller and squashed together like cold, ragged children. Their windows and stoops, however, were clean and those people still outside appeared to have somewhere to go, although there was hollow resignation on their faces.

I drew closer to Samuel. "Are you all right, Violet? Do you want to turn back?"

"No. I expected we would be entering one of the worst areas of London."

"This isn't the worst," he said quietly. "Not by far." If he were afraid, he didn't show it. He did seem particularly alert, scanning to left and right as we walked.

"Go on, Samuel. Tell me about purposefully blocking memories using hypnosis."

"I stumbled upon the process in my teens. I was, uh, experimenting with my abilities, and unfortunately instead of hypnotizing someone and making him think he was a woman, I blocked his memory of the entire day."

"You tried to make a man think he was a woman?" I giggled. "You can do that?"

"There are many things a hypnotist can do while a subject is in a hypnotized state. That was one of my favorites when I was about fifteen."

"How wicked of you."

"I can assure you, my wickedness is in the past. These days I mostly cure ladies of melancholy or hysteria," he said with a sigh. "You are a welcome change."

The street narrowed again and the air grew dank, dark. Very little light filtered through the fog from the setting sun. There were few gas lamps, and even fewer of them were lit. Those that were lit glowed in the miasma like disembodied orbs.

"So what happened after you tried to hypnotize that man into thinking he was a woman?"

"When the subject awoke from his hypnosis, something very odd happened. He became a narcoleptic."

"What!"

"Shhh."

Up ahead, Jack stopped. Samuel pulled me into a recessed doorway as Jack turned. My face pressed into Samuel's chest. I could feel his chin above my head, his heart thumping against my ear despite the layers of clothing. It beat in time to the rhythm of my blood.

He peered round the edge of the brickwork. "He's walking again."

We followed. "Did your subject fall asleep at particular moments, or did the narcoleptic episodes occur with no pattern whatsoever?"

"He fell asleep at...moments of great...excitement."

"How interesting. Does he still suffer from the episodes?"

"No."

"Did you cure him?"

"I tried but couldn't. He was cured in another way."

"How?"

A few heartbeats passed before he answered. "It's not something I can discuss with a lady."

"Samuel, you have to tell me. Whatever it is, I can assure you I won't be shocked."

He cleared his throat. "Very well. Yes, it took another event of great excitement to cure him. Excitement of a...male nature."

"You mean when he was aroused by a woman?"

He made a strangled sound that I took as embarrassed affirmation.

"I do believe you're blushing, Samuel." As was I, rather fiercely. Despite my attempt to sound worldly, I was very far from it. I knew in theory what happened between a man and a woman when they grew aroused, thanks to a book our biology tutor smuggled in one day while Miss Levine wasn't looking, but my practical knowledge was nil.

"Well," he said. "So. In conclusion, whatever produces narcolepsy within you, is the very thing that will cure you of it, albeit in a larger dose. My subject fell asleep when he was aroused, but it was the same emotion that ended his narcolepsy once and for all."

"A larger dose?"

"My subject was cured by excessive, ah, stimulation. There happened to be two women with him at the time."

"Two! Is that even possible?"

Poor Samuel ran his finger inside his collar and stretched his neck. "Please don't ask any more questions. There are some things a lady shouldn't hear."

What about a lady's companion?

"You need to expose yourself to whatever emotion it is that sets off your narcolepsy," he said. "Do you know what it is?"

"Fear, I think."

"Good. All you need now is to experience heightened terror, and you may be cured."

"That's something to look forward to," I said dryly.

"Who do you think did this to you? You must know someone capable of hypnosis. Someone with the natural talent for it like me, not learned as in Dr. Werner's case. Do you know who that might be?"

"No. Nor do I know why they would do this to me."

"Tell me about the Langleys. Perhaps it was one of them."

"It wasn't. I've only known them a few days, and I've been a narcoleptic all my life."