The Two Faces of Temperance

by Ichabod Temperance

  “It is a pleasant distraction from our own quandaries, sir. Now let me remind you, to be on the sharpest look-out for danger until we return to our seats following the play’s intermission.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Gee, look at all the fancy folks milling about the lobby of ‘Piccadilly Palace.’ I never thought I’d be hob-nobbing with such upper-crusty types.”

  “Nor would they have considered rubbing elbows with the likes of you, Mr. Temperance. Your silken disguise has hoodwinked them all.”

  “Yay!”

  “You are correct in the great number of attendees. Apparently the play is a tremendous success and promises a lengthy run.”

  “Even over here out of the way, this room is crowded. I reckon everybody wanted to stretch their legs, hunh, Miss Plumtartt?”

  “Quite so, Mr. Temperance, it is difficult not to be jostled in this throng, eh...Oh! Oo.”

  “Miss Plumtartt! Are you all right? That woman barely touched your right side, yet you winced in real pain!”

  “Eh hem, yes, I beg your pardon, Mr. Temperance, it’s nothing, really. A minor injury I acquired last night.”

  “An injury? Oh my Goodness, are you all right, Ma’am?”

  “The wound t’was but a trifle, I assure you; however, I am reminded: two murders have occurred within our perimeter of interest. The first is our recalcitrant anarchist and the second is the engineer, Hans Moen, whom I believe was a fellow in your secret project. I have first-hand knowledge of a third murder attempt last night. Though this victim suffered a grazing wound, this person survived their attack. I suspect your life to be in danger, Mr. Temperance. I cannot stress enough your need to remain wary.”

  “Yes Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I’m warier than a mama bear over her cubs. I got more eyes than a fly and bigger ears than a bat. I reckon I’m about as wary as a field mouse in a house of starving cats.”

  “The crush of peoples forces Lord and Lady Dashwoodey in our direction, Mr. Temperance.”

  “Howdy Lord Dashwoodey, and how-do-you-do-to-night-La-dy-Dash-wood-ey?”

  “Harumph. Oh, yes, the female and the American. Howdy, indeed. I am a Lord of Parliament, how do you expect one to be? As for Lady Dashwoodey, she is pleasantly under her doctor’s best apothycarical care. Unlike the dirty rabble that infest our city’s drunken slums and opium dens of the Far East, we at the pinnacle of society only partake of those medicines as prescribed by our modern doctors. Cocaine, heroin, and the like do wonders for our very best in society. Lady Dashwoodey here is far more manageable while under laudanum’s sweet entrancement. Isn’t that right, Lady Dashwoodey, dear?”

  “ . . . mmm . . . ”

  “Your female, on the other hand, is rather excitable. You should suggest to your physician that he raise the concentration of the appropriate mood altering aspects in her usual dosage of ‘happy pills’, eh, old boy?”

  “Yessir.”

  “I say, I beg your pardon, Lord Dashwoodey. I do not appreciate being spoken of in this less than chivalrous manner. As the world around you is ever changing, so too is society. Women’s traditional roles and restrictions are challenged. The right for women to vote and hold elected offices is soon upon us. Education will be limitless for everyone, regardless of sex or race.”

  “Temperance, your female is still babbling on about some feminist fiddle faddle or another. Inform the girl that if it would like to carry on a conversation, it may do so with the Lady Dashwoodey, seeing as how she too suffers from being female.”

  “Yessir. Miss Plumtartt, Lord Dashwoodey says...”

  “I heard Lord Dashwoodey and need no intermediary for conversation. Lord Dashwoodey, we live during the evolution of an Age. Empathy with Mankind is a hallmark for this time of enlightenment. Restraining suffrage rights from half of the country’s population because of their sex is the sort of backward thought process...”

  “Backward thought process!? How dare you, you uppity woman! Of course, I know who you are. You must be one of those mad suffragettes! A woman voter! Ha! The very idea makes me laugh. Ha. Harumph. Ha. The next thing you know, you’ll be going on with silly, wool-headed, feel-good nonsense such as humane working hours, for oppressed workers, or safe working conditions for commercial enterprises. Why you probably even support child labour reform. Child labour reform! Can you imagine? You silly woman, how do you think coal is removed from the ground? Do you think it drags itself up through those long, dark, airless tubes? It requires small children to harvest Earth’s rich treasure. Coal and steam are the fuel of commerce. This country runs on coal. Coal is this food of industry! The Victorian Age and those that enjoy her modern steam-driven marvels do so upon the backs of thousands of black-lunged, coal smeared, faceless children. Those awful little urchins should be proud of their short lives’ valuable contribution to this Golden Age. Good honest work like dragging double one’s body weight through those confined, suffocating, pitch black and lonely stretches of earthen tube builds character in the little scamps. Their mothers and fifteen fatherless siblings would starve if not for the meager wages they scrape up. Why, just look at this common example of such that we have in this Temperance specimen. His growth and mental acuity is obviously stunted by lengthy exposure to subterranean conditions, yet he stands there none the worse for wear, eh?”

  “Yessir!”

  “I say, Lord Dashwoodey, these very reforms are even now in process of coming about. Changes in mining techniques and alternatives in fuel are being explored. You sir, begging your pardon, m’Lord, are an impediment to progress.”

  “An impediment to progress! Me, an impediment to the progress of this Empire?!? You, you infernal female! You must be under the attack of some sort of woman madness. Perhaps a stout cuff to your ear will set you right. It worked on a younger Lady Dashwoodey and it has worked well to maintain discipline with all of my assorted mistresses and random fanciful flings. Stand by for a Royal cuffing. What’s this? How dare you, you nasty little American, to block my blow.”

  “It don’t matter who you are, don’t nobody cuff Miss Plumtartt.”

  “I am incensed! You disreputable rascal! You shall feel my cuffing in her stead!”

  ~Cuff!~

  “Mr. Temperance!”

  “That filthy little American scoundrel deserves that and more, I daresay. Harumph. Harumph and Burbity.”

  ~tink!~

  “Oh, I say, I have been sharply poked in my lower back. I spin about to find, you! Mr. ‘A.S.’ My midnight assassin back for another go, eh? Thought you’d be able to get away with murder in the confusion of the lobbied crowd, eh? I foresaw as much and took the precaution of wearing a corset with a substantially higher concentration of steel boning, eh heh-mwhuh-hunh?”

  “Burbity! How dare you look away while I am speaking to you, young lady. You shall look at me when I speak to you.”

  “Don’t you go grabbing Miss Plumtartt and spin her around like that! I said to lay off and I mean it. Now you just stand over here out of the way, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I’m gonna... rrr... settle... wiff Lawrff Rashroorey runce an’ ror-allrrrr.”

  “Harumph, what is going...Oh! Aieee! I am stabbed! Oh! I am murdered!”

  “My thwarted assassin has instead stabbed Lord Dashwoodey whilst I have been turned to and fro. The murderer escapes!”

  “Bleh-Rargh!”

  “Eek! It’s Jackie the Spring-Heeled Stripper!”

  “Eek! It’s Dr. Ickle!”

  “He has just murdered Lord Dashwoodey!”

  “Watch out for his terrible claws!”

  “Beware, his horrible bite!”

  “Bleh-Rargh!”

  “Augh! Beware of his awful breath!”

  “Eek! His terrible claws have ripped my bodice!”

  “Eek! His animalistic eyes have stripped me of my dignity!”

  “Eek! I just know he’s undressing me with those wild and beastly glaring eyes of his.”

  “Eek! Don’t just stand there gawk
ing like a bunch of frightened women. That’s what we’re for. You men must go and secure the little ape at once!”

  “Eek! Eh hem, er, burbity. I meant to say, er, eek. Yes, now then, the women are right. Let’s we two hundred or so chaps swarm the beast all at once, eh?”

  “Jolly good, we do hold the advantage in numerical superiority, eh, what?”

  “Yes, quite. I daresay, a large number of our fellows, myself included, still happen to have our canes upon themselves, eh what, chaps?”

  “Oh, yes, I see where you are headed. Our masses of men armed with sticks, against this solitary simian in a tuxedo. I say, this shall be a jolly sport, indeed!”

  “Come along, Reggie, let us cudgel the brute simultaneously.”

  “Just so, Chad-Chad. Oh, Trevour, would you care to join in?”

  “Yes, Reg, I think I would. Ready, steady, go!”

  ~Smack! Whack! Crack!~

  “Oh, what jolly good fun!”

  ~Whick! Whack! Whock!~

  “Ha, ha! Everyone join in! Tally ho, boys, let’s have at him!”

  ~Bip! Bap! Beep! Bop! Boop!~

  “Ho, ho! Good show lads, that’s it! Really give it to him!”

  ~Whickety, Bhickety, Boppity-Thwack!~

  ~Whackety, Smackety, Clobberty-Klongk!~

  ~Whickety-Bhockity-Whonkity-Klack!~

  “Huff, huff, huff! I find the hollow echo of his skull a delight to my ears.”

  “Tee, hee! Scamper, scamper, Dr. Ickle, you cannot escape our constant barrage... Oh, drat, you chappies have allowed the brute to leap over your heads. He’s climbing the curtains in an effort to gain the mezzanine. You’ll not escape our privileged pathos, Dr. Ickle. To the balcony, boys!”

  “Huzzah!”

  “It’s a fox hunt, lads! Release the hounds! Get him!”

  “I shall mount his head along with my safari trophies.”

  “Not if I bag the blighter first, old bean, ho, ho!”

  “There he is. We have you now, Dr. Spring-Heeled Jackie.”

  ~Kuff!~

  “Oh, he has struck me!”

  ~Klout!~

  “Oh, the beast has dealt me a terrible blow!”

  ~Schnappe!~

  “He tried to bite me! Oh, bad show, really. Those fangs are just a bit much, eh?”

  “It’s this steep balcony steps and seating. Forced to maneuver in the aisle, our numerical advantage has been neutralized.”

  “You men climb over the seats to get around him. We’ll soon overpower the villain once more.”

  “It’s working! We have him trapped! He has been driven to the last seat, on the last row of the theater. Watch out you men, for he’s attempting to fight free!”

  “It’s running down the seats! His freakish animal agility allows the monster to run down the steep balcony seating along the top of the chair backs! He’s heading for the open edge of the balcony!”

  “Bleh-Rargh!”

  “He jumped!”

  ~Pir-Kissssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh!!!~

  ~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~

  ~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~tinkly~

  ~tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink,tink!~

  “The caped ape clings to the chandelier! Now the rotten creature is scaling its suspension chain.”

  “He’s trying to get out through the ceiling! We must get into the area above!”

  “There’s a maintenance access doorway over here.”

  “There is a hidden world in this space between the theater’s ceiling, and the building’s roof.”

  “Watch your step, boys. Stay on the rafters. The plaster and lathe will drop you a hundred feet.”

  “Eek! The horrible Dr. Ickle runs about with impunity. He has found the roof access. After him, boys!”

  “My word, the wind up here on the roof is considerable, eh what?”

  “Eek! There he is! His tuxedo cape flaps in the air behind him like a banner in a gale.”

  “This is a free-standing building. He can’t jump and make it to another building to escape us.”

  “Let’s drive him off the roof!”

  “Good idea. Just be careful the monster doesn't take one of us with him.”

  “Righto.”

  “We have him trapped on a corner, high above the street.”

  “Bleh-Rargh!”

  “He slipped over the edge! Hurry, we might get to see him hit the cobblestones!”

  “There he is! He’s scrabbling down the corner of the building, hugging the crenelated brickwork. The decorative brick laying motif provides a ladder of sorts for the wild beast. He’s made it to the ground. Now with horses rearing up in terror around him, he hurries across the busy thoroughfare.”

  “I can hear the screams of the people in that double decker lorry as the nasty devil climbs over their tram.”

  “He leaps from the double decker to the other side.”

  “Oh drat, Dr. Ickle has made good his escape.”

  Chapter Four.

  Ship’s Log.

  The Aloof Perspective:

  Lord DASHWOODEY

  Slain By

  Dr. Ickle!

  In a brazen assault on this nation’s aristocracy, the mad ‘Dr. Ickle’ has brutally cut down House of Lords member, Lord Archibald Dashwoodey. This cowardly assassination happened in the crowded confines of ‘Piccadilly Palace’s’ lobby before hundreds of shocked and horrified audience members. This political crisis is now a threat to national security! The hairy monster has been seen on many different occasions, and all with an intent to disrupt Great Britain to her foundations. The first appearance was upon London Bridge during a patriotic celebration. It is thought that the creature could not stand to see a love for country displayed. Subsequent attacks the following night against wholesome theaters, respectable couples and ending with a dastardly assault to our city’s fair maidens and their dignity. Finally, after last night’s horrific, Parliamentary-level murder, there can be no further doubt. An anarchist plot is spreading its black wings of chaos across the halls of power!

  The London Leer:

  Number of Park Bench

  Stabbings Grows.

  Two more separate murder victims have been found on city park benches. Each gentleman has appeared to be at rest, but upon closer examination, revealed themselves as dead bodies. The first, Kirby Smythe, was a manufacturer of various nautical fittings. The second, Angus Crumbleforge; a plate and boiler-making engineer of considerable reputation. Not only were these men stabbed in an identical manner, and left sitting on park benches, but this pattern follows two victims of identical circumstances from each of the previous two nights. Some at Scotland Yard are referring to this mysterious perpetrator as ‘The Park Bench Butcher’.

  The Empiric Gatherer:

  Dr. Ickle and

  Park Bench Butcher

  Are one and the Same!

  A stunning and spectacular revelation has been released from Scotland Yard! Modern crime fighting forensics have proven that the wound inflicted upon Lord Dashwoodey is identical to the wounds of the Park Bench Butcher! Detectives have no doubt that the murderer of one is the murderer of all. As Dr. Ickle was witnessed in Lord Dashwoodey’s slaying, it is reasonable to extrapolate that he is guilty of these other ghastly murders as well. That gives us a total of five murder victims that can be traced back to the dreadful Dr. Ickle.

  [From the scientific notebook of Professor Christopher Diddlefudde:]

  My experiment with the Temperance specimen is going nowhere. That stupid boy! My serum should be having a drastic effect, but I am registering no changes in the subject. I have no choice but to continue pushing the parameters of what some sissies may consider safe. Where did science ever get by playing it safe? I will never consider playing it safe! I have too much integrity! Truth to science trumps all other considerations! Why should I bother wasting my considerations on that schlub? Why not use whatever materials I have at hand? I have been provided with an expe
ndable specimen with which to conduct my trials, so why not use it; even if it is for my own pursuits? A pursuit of Persephone Plumtartt makes all my hard work worthwhile. Soon, she will appreciate me and all that I have done for her.

  [From the Private Journal of Miss Persephone Plumtartt:]

  Tonight finds oneself recording mixed results in maintaining Mr. Temperance’s safety. Unlike the previous three nights, I enjoyed more success in keeping Mr. Temperance under a watchful eye. As a sympathetic sentry, I kept my charge close at hand throughout dinner. I must say, the normally painfully shy fellow was far more at ease than that to which I am normally accustomed. I quite enjoyed his unusually jovial company until such time as he escorted me back to my hotel door...

  “OOOOOOOhhh, Mr. Temperance, I say, you have been a most delightful dinner companion tonight. I have never known you to be more amiable nor chatty. You almost seem to be a different person, but as you are so sweet, one can hardly imagine you as anyone else.”

  “I’m glad I’m not anyone else right now, Miss Plumtartt. Standing within your personal space leaves me all tingly. In fact, maybe I don’t say it often enough, but, your charming company is life’s sweetest reward, Ma’am.”

  “You dear boy, I don’t know what to say.”

  “You ain’t got to say nothing, Ma’am, just allow me a few more moments with you before we part, please. I just want to enjoy this moment as long as possible.”

  “Of course, my adorable beau.”

  “You are so pretty, I just about can’t stand it, Miss Plumtartt. This is as fine of a hotel that I have ever seen and its sumptuous grandness suits you, Ma’am. We have this long, empty, hotel corridor all to ourselves. I see where fresh, red roses have been placed in a nice setting. The floral patterned carpet is as lush as old moss. Hmm, let’s see... Roses are red, violets are blue, the world is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you. Gosh, this is such a glamorous and romantic setting, it seems like a shame, to waste the moment. Don’t you think so, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am?”

  “Why, Mr. Temperance, I applaud your boldness, but just what did you have in mind, eh hem?”

  “I had in mind taking you into my arms, like this.”