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Authors: Ken Greenwald
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moments
before, I was in the warm comfort of my favorite chair. A particularly bad bump
shook me back to reality. I saw that we were in the warehouse district not far
from the waterfront, for I could hear the fog horns and boats sounding a short
distance away. I knew there were no dwellings here, for this was strictly a
business district and a place of often dealt shady crime. Suddenly the carriage
pulled up in front of one of the warehouses.
“Why are we
stopping here, madam?” I asked, not without some trepidation on my part.
“Because this is
where we are going. Please hurry! Follow me down these steps!”
I stepped from
the carriage and rushed forward into the safety of a doorway through which she
had entered. She gestured to me and I followed her down a long and deep
staircase to the basement of the warehouse. It was quite dark, but there was a
crack of light coming from a small opening in the middle of the door. She was
about to knock on the door, when I stayed her hand.
“Madam, do be so
kind as to tell me where you are taking me.”
“We have a . . . a club here in the
basement,” she said in hesitant tones. “Come, you’ll see for yourself in a
moment.”
She knocked in a
pattern. One, a break, then three. She did this only one more time. One, a
break, then three. We waited a moment and the small flap covering the opening
in the middle of the door was pushed aside. The silhouette of a man blended
with the streaks of bright light that burst from the opening.
“Who knocks?”
said the man.
“Number seven,” said
the lady in rags.
“Give the
password.”
“To the lanterns.”
“You may enter.”
As the small
flap closed I turned to the lady in wonderment.
“This must be a
very secret club of yours, madam.”
“It is, doctor.”
The door was
opened and a small man eyed us both as we passed him and walked down a short
corridor. I seemed to hear piano music from a distance.
“Madam,” I
insisted of her, “I do wish you’d tell me where you are taking me. This looks
like the entrance to an opium den or a thieves’ kitchen.”
“Don’t worry,
doctor, you are in no danger.”
She swung open a
second door and the piano music filled my ears. There before me was a
luxuriously furnished large room, filled with talking people, some of them in
full evening dress and others in beggars clothing!
“There, doctor,
does that look like a thieves’ kitchen?”
“I can’t believe
my eyes, madam. What a strange collection of people! Absolutely amazing!”
Suddenly,
looming up before me was a large man, deeply scared, with fiery eyes and a head
of hair that was pulled back and tied, like that of a gypsy. He was in beggar’s
clothes, with a dagger stuck through his belt.
“Number seven,” he
said, “who is this man?”
“He’s a doctor.
I went to fetch him.”
“I thought I
said there were to be no strangers inside here!”
“Now look here,
my good man,” I said angrily, “I’ve been extremely patient so far, but my
temper is beginning to wear a little thin. Either let me see your patient at
once, or show me out! My time is valuable and I don’t propose to waste it!”
“I’m sorry,
doctor,” said the lady, who then turned to the tall and steely man, “where is
Julian?”
“He’s in the
back room,” he said with a gesture, pointing to a large door to one side. “And
if you know what’s good for you Dr. what-ever-you-call-yourself, you’ll forget
everything you see in here!”
“Stop
threatening me, sir! I’m not in the least interested in your blasted club! Just
take me to the patient!”
Without a word,
the tall man walked to the room, I following with the lady beside me. This
second room was smaller, but it too was exquisitely furnished.
“This is the man
we want you to examine, doctor,” said the tall one, pointing to a well dressed
gentleman who was lying on a velvet couch.
“Well, someone
had better tell me what happened to him,” I said.
“He fell
before, I was in the warm comfort of my favorite chair. A particularly bad bump
shook me back to reality. I saw that we were in the warehouse district not far
from the waterfront, for I could hear the fog horns and boats sounding a short
distance away. I knew there were no dwellings here, for this was strictly a
business district and a place of often dealt shady crime. Suddenly the carriage
pulled up in front of one of the warehouses.
“Why are we
stopping here, madam?” I asked, not without some trepidation on my part.
“Because this is
where we are going. Please hurry! Follow me down these steps!”
I stepped from
the carriage and rushed forward into the safety of a doorway through which she
had entered. She gestured to me and I followed her down a long and deep
staircase to the basement of the warehouse. It was quite dark, but there was a
crack of light coming from a small opening in the middle of the door. She was
about to knock on the door, when I stayed her hand.
“Madam, do be so
kind as to tell me where you are taking me.”
“We have a . . . a club here in the
basement,” she said in hesitant tones. “Come, you’ll see for yourself in a
moment.”
She knocked in a
pattern. One, a break, then three. She did this only one more time. One, a
break, then three. We waited a moment and the small flap covering the opening
in the middle of the door was pushed aside. The silhouette of a man blended
with the streaks of bright light that burst from the opening.
“Who knocks?”
said the man.
“Number seven,” said
the lady in rags.
“Give the
password.”
“To the lanterns.”
“You may enter.”
As the small
flap closed I turned to the lady in wonderment.
“This must be a
very secret club of yours, madam.”
“It is, doctor.”
The door was
opened and a small man eyed us both as we passed him and walked down a short
corridor. I seemed to hear piano music from a distance.
“Madam,” I
insisted of her, “I do wish you’d tell me where you are taking me. This looks
like the entrance to an opium den or a thieves’ kitchen.”
“Don’t worry,
doctor, you are in no danger.”
She swung open a
second door and the piano music filled my ears. There before me was a
luxuriously furnished large room, filled with talking people, some of them in
full evening dress and others in beggars clothing!
“There, doctor,
does that look like a thieves’ kitchen?”
“I can’t believe
my eyes, madam. What a strange collection of people! Absolutely amazing!”
Suddenly,
looming up before me was a large man, deeply scared, with fiery eyes and a head
of hair that was pulled back and tied, like that of a gypsy. He was in beggar’s
clothes, with a dagger stuck through his belt.
“Number seven,” he
said, “who is this man?”
“He’s a doctor.
I went to fetch him.”
“I thought I
said there were to be no strangers inside here!”
“Now look here,
my good man,” I said angrily, “I’ve been extremely patient so far, but my
temper is beginning to wear a little thin. Either let me see your patient at
once, or show me out! My time is valuable and I don’t propose to waste it!”
“I’m sorry,
doctor,” said the lady, who then turned to the tall and steely man, “where is
Julian?”
“He’s in the
back room,” he said with a gesture, pointing to a large door to one side. “And
if you know what’s good for you Dr. what-ever-you-call-yourself, you’ll forget
everything you see in here!”
“Stop
threatening me, sir! I’m not in the least interested in your blasted club! Just
take me to the patient!”
Without a word,
the tall man walked to the room, I following with the lady beside me. This
second room was smaller, but it too was exquisitely furnished.
“This is the man
we want you to examine, doctor,” said the tall one, pointing to a well dressed
gentleman who was lying on a velvet couch.
“Well, someone
had better tell me what happened to him,” I said.
“He fell
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