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MILLER PAUSED, LOST in contemplation. Hapgood wrote on, ignoring the screaming in his wrist and the numb feeling in his fingers. He was breathless, and at first didn’t realise that Miller had stopped speaking. He finished writing, and then looked at Miller.
‘This is incredible, who would think that the elephant man would...’
‘Joseph,’ Miller interrupted. ‘His name was Joseph and he was a wonderful man.’
Hapgood lowered his gaze, realising how cold it was in the room.
‘I apologise. It was him then, Mr Merrick who spurred you on to continue?’
‘Not knowingly. His advice was with the best of intentions I’m sure.’
‘Indeed. And you took to visiting him regularly I presume?’ he added.
Miller shook his head.
‘Sadly not. If I have one regret then this is it. I intended to, of course, however as the next months progressed, I’m sorry to say poor Joseph slipped my mind as thoughts of my work consumed me.’
Hapgood said nothing, feeling that silence was the best response.
‘I do miss him, Mr Hapgood. When news of his passing reached me, I felt genuine sadness. I wish I had visited him once more. I understand he did as he told me that evening in the gardens. When he was ready he lay down and embraced death as it came.’
There was a lengthy silence, and then Hapgood stood and stretched.
‘Perhaps now would be a good time to take a short break.’
‘I fear that if I stop now then I will not be able to continue. I...’
He began to cough, producing a white handkerchief from his pocket and holding it over his mouth and nose. Eventually, it subsided, and Miller wiped his lips. The handkerchief was stained with blood.
‘Do not be alarmed,’ Miller said folding the handkerchief back into his pocket.
‘My death is approaching and unavoidable. Perhaps now you now understand the urgency of my meeting with you?’
It was as if seeing this man coughing up blood in his kitchen shattered the myth that Hapgood had built. He was just a man, one who suddenly looked very old and frail. Hapgood was sure he could stand and walk away, and Miller would not try to stop him. Yet as much as he hated himself for it, he wanted to hear the rest, even though he knew something of the brutality to come.
‘You see me differently. The monster’s death draws close and his aura dies with him.’
Hapgood looked at the table, unsure what to say.
‘I understand. To this world, I am a beast. A vile thing that any man would say deserves his death. Yet you still want to hear my story. What came next. What came after that which you know.’
‘I know how this story ends. You forget I was working on my book before you came to my door this evening.’
‘The Kelly woman? You believe that to be the end? That was just a chapter, a stop on a road which will yet grow more twisted before my story is finished. As I said when I arrived, Hapgood. Forget all you think you know. You have heard only a small segment of this particular story.’
A silence, heavy and oppressive fell over the kitchen. The rain continued it’s incessant tapping on the kitchen window trying to get in.
‘Perhaps we should move back into the study?’ Hapgood suggested.
‘Yes, it grows cold this night Hapgood. And the tale will grow colder yet.’
Hapgood nodded and scooped up the stack of paper he had written on, and carried them to the study. Miller followed, veering towards the window which looked out onto the slushy streets. Hapgood sat at his desk, refilling the inkwell, which had almost run dry.
‘Tis a cold winter is it not Mr Hapgood?’
‘Indeed, it is.’
Miller returned to his seat, and Hapgood waited, pushing thoughts of the moralistic rights or wrongs of what he was doing to one side.
Without warning, Miller continued his tale. ‘It was August, eighteen eighty-eight. It had been a little over two weeks since my discussion with Joseph and with my renewed determination only increased by the filthy whores selling their rancid flesh on the streets I was ready to strike again. I had chosen the twenty-ninth, the anniversary of the day I found out the truth about my whore of a mother. A fitting day indeed. History states I had actively selected the next whore as my first; however, her fate was decided by the filthy stinking bitch herself and I only happened upon her by chance after an earlier failed attempt. As with the first, I was watching from the corner of the Ten Bells which at that time was a veritable nest of those vile and filthy women.