Page 55 of From the Ashes
He beamed back at me. "They are, aren't they?"
Gus groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Did you say you went to Barts today, Charlie?" Lady Vickers asked, once again studying the newspaper. "There's an obituary here for a Mr. Mannering. He was an administrator there up until his death a few days ago."
"May I see that?"
She folded it and passed it to me. "I like to browse the obituaries and see who's fallen off their perch," she said. "It's one of the few pleasures left to me."
Gus and Seth peered over my shoulder. "Mr. Ira Hartley Mannering," Gus read. He tapped my shoulder. "An administrator will know his way around the hospital."
I handed the newspaper back to Lady Vickers and sprang to my feet. Without speaking, Seth and Gus followed me out.
"Who is he?" Lady Vickers called after us. "Why is he important?"
We hurried up to Lincoln's rooms where he sat at his desk. There were no papers in front of him, however, and no books or other work. Just my engagement ring in its box.
"I know of another way into the laboratory," I said, focusing on my idea. "A way that is less dangerous than you breaking in."
"Go on."
We told him about the obituary. He listened with his arms crossed and his legs outstretched. "His spirit eyes can see in the dark, even from inside his dead body, and he will know where to go."
He shook his head. "If Bell is sleeping in the laboratory, he'll see him."
"Yes, but what does it matter? Mannering will be too strong to be stopped, and he can't be hurt or killed. Bell will be powerless to do anything. And he'll be none the wiser as to our involvement."
"I suppose this means you think you ought to come to control him."
"It'll be just like Bedlam."
"I seem to recall that almost ended in disaster."
"Almost but not quite. Lincoln, I don't think there's a safer alternative. You going in alone not only risks you, but also Dr. Bell. At least if I direct Mannering not to harm anyone, he must do as I say."
"You don't trust me not to hurt Bell?"
Either Seth or Gus cleared his throat.
"I think you'll fight if you get cornered," I said. "If Mannering is cornered, it doesn't matter."
"She has a point, sir," Gus said.
"And this way we can all come along," Seth added.
"It's not a party," Lincoln said.
"It's better."
"Mannering's funeral is tomorrow. Morgan Brothers are the undertakers. They're not far from here."
Lincoln blew out a breath and shook his head. "Everyone should get some sleep. We'll leave at two."
* * *
Ira Hartley Mannering'sspirit did not want to re-enter his dead body. I could hardly blame him. I wouldn't like to have my eternal rest interrupted by someone ordering me to occupy a bloated body that was beginning to go off. Thank goodness he was due to be buried in the morning.
I'd summoned Mannering then wasted no time directing his spirit into the funeral parlor to sink back into his body. Once he eventually agreed, he unlocked the door from the inside and lurched across the road in his lumbering, awkward gait to us, waiting in the carriage. He now sat beside Lincoln, his dead eyes unfocused and his arms hanging limply at his sides. He reminded me of a ventriloquist's doll, albeit an oversized, smelly one.
