“What’s the meaning of this, Daniel? Who is this boy?”
Clearly Daniel did not believe in wasting words.
“Found him upstairs.”
The little man raised his eyebrows.
“Found him upstairs! ’Pon my soul! This won’t do at all. You know very well, Daniel, my work is reaching a crucial stage and I mustn’t be disturbed.”
“Been walking about,” Daniel stated. “Footsteps in dust.”
Rodney thought it was about time that he again explained the situation. “I thought the house was empty, sir, and as I am wet through . . .”
“Good heavens, so he is!” the little man interrupted. “He’s dripping water all over the carpet and must be well on the way to catching cold. Can’t have that. The germs might get round and fasten their teeth on Henry.”
Daniel shook his head violently. “Doctor Frankwell—boy has ears.”
Doctor Frankwell adjusted his spectacles. “So he has. So what? He’d look very funny without them.”
“Hear too much,” Daniel insisted. “Got mouth. Talk.”
Doctor Frankwell sighed deeply. “Oh, dear! I keep forgetting not to mention Henry. Now look here, boy, you will forget that I ever did. There’s no such person. You will dismiss the name of Henry completely from your mind. Is that clear?”
Rodney, who was really very wet and extremely cold into the bargain, and would have been quite willing to forget his own name for some dry clothes, said: “Yes, sir. Now, can you please . . .”
The doctor waved his hand impatiently. “Yes . . . yes. Take him away, Daniel, and dry him out. Better give him something to eat afterward, but don’t let him near Hen . . . I mean, near anyone.”
Daniel did not bother to use any more words, he just pulled Rodney out of the room, pushed him along the passage, and deposited him in a bedroom. He opened a chest of drawers and took out a pair of trousers and a thick woolen pullover. “Put on,” he instructed. “Bring wet clothes to kitchen. First door on right.” Then he went out and Rodney heard his heavy footsteps recede down the passage.
The trousers and pullover must have been the property of Doctor Frankwell, because they were a very tight fit, but they were at least warm and dry, so it was with a lighter heart—and a fully aroused curiosity—that Rodney emerged from the bedroom and made his way toward the first door on the right.
The kitchen was in a mess. Unwashed plates and saucepans were piled on the wooden draining board, the sink was full of cold, greasy water, and the floor was simply littered with turnip tops, potato peelings, and screwed-up paper bags. When Rodney entered, Daniel was examining a half-cooked leg of lamb that he had just removed from the old-fashioned iron range. He pointed to a large wooden chair.
“Hang clothes on back. Put in front of fire.”
Rodney draped his trousers over the chair back, and laid his shirt, underpants, and socks across the seat. Then he watched Daniel’s culinary activities.
The huge man was cutting off the red, juicy parts of the joint, but the deeper he cut, the more it became obvious that the meat was under-cooked.
“Excuse me . . .” Rodney, who had taken a cookery course in the Scouts, had to speak up. “I think you have taken it out of the oven too soon.”
Daniel said: “Ugh”—or a sound to that effect—and stared at the leg of lamb with an air of complete helplessness.
“May I help you?” asked Rodney.
Daniel started as though he had been stung by a wasp. “Help?”
“Yes, I can cook. And, since you and the doctor have been so kind—I’ll be pleased to—well—clear up for you.”
Daniel looked slowly around the kitchen. “Clear up? Nothing want clearing up.”
“Nonsense!” Rodney could not restrain his indignation. “This place is in an awful mess. Where is the broom?”
“Broom?”
Eventually Rodney found some cleaning materials in a narrow cupboard and set to work while Daniel watched him with growing approval. Presently the leg of lamb, surrounded by a circle of potatoes, still attired in their brown jackets, was back in the oven, a saucepan of Brussels sprouts was simmering on the hotplate, and the kitchen floor had been cleared of all refuse.
“Perhaps,” Rodney suggested, “you will give me a hand with the washing up.”
“Washing up?”
“Yes. All these dirty plates and things. They need washing.”
“Only get dirty again.”
Daniel was finally prevailed upon to dry up, but he wasn’t very good at it, because at least three plates crashed to the floor and one cup lost its handle.
“What does the doctor do?” Rodney asked, assuming an air of casualness.
“He—make things.”
“Oh, really? I thought doctors treated sick people and wrote out prescriptions.”
This was a bit too much for Daniel and he frowned as though his slow-working brain was struggling with a very complicated problem. At last he spoke.
“Must not talk about what doctor do. It’s se-se—”
“Secret?” Rodney suggested. “I say, is he working for the government?”
Daniel frowned again. “No gov-er-ment. No talk. Se-cret.”
But Rodney did not give up so easily. “I expect you are a great help. The doctor is very lucky to have such an intelligent person to rely on.”
Daniel thought about this for some time, then his lips parted to reveal large, fearsome-looking teeth.
“I am big help. The doctor let me shift big pieces on to table and once . . . You not tell him I tell you this?”
“Oh, no.”
“Well,” and an expression of almost childish pride transformed Daniel’s face, “once I pulled big switch and made all the lights jump along wires.”
“Gosh!” Rodney displayed all the signs of suitable admiration. “You are clever. What happened?”
Daniel sighed very deeply. “No good. All the pieces flew apart. Doctor start again. But this time . . .”
He stopped, looked suspiciously at Rodney, then shook his head. “I not talk anymore. Nobody must know. You help get dinner ready.”
Dinner was served in a small dining room that was situated on the opposite side of the passage to the kitchen. Rodney laid the table and Daniel brought in the by-now succulent joint, then went to fetch the doctor. The little man came bustling in and positively beamed when he saw the sizzling lamb, the crisp potatoes, and the steaming Brussels sprouts.
“’Pon my soul! Daniel, you have excelled yourself. Absolutely excelled yourself.”
Daniel tried to assume a modest expression but was quite unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin.
“Boy helped,” he admitted with some reluctance.
“Did he now?” Doctor Frankwell seated himself at the head of the table and began to carve the lamb as though he were performing some intricate operation. “What a bright lad he is, to be sure. Daniel, after dinner I will require your help. Henry has been lapping up the electricity all day . . .”
Daniel made a sound that was halfway between a cough and a growl and jerked his head in the direction of Rodney. The doctor gasped.
“Oh dear, I’ve done it again. Lad, do you realize there is no such person as Henry? As for lapping up electricity—he never did. Never. I mean to say—he couldn’t—could he?”
“No, sir,” Rodney agreed.
“That’s all right then. I can’t imagine what came over me, talking such rubbish. Nevertheless, Daniel, I think it would be safe to say, tonight you will be able to pull the big switch.”
For a moment it seemed as if Daniel would get up and do a little dance. But he contented himself with banging a spoon on the table instead.
“Pu-ll the big switch! And all the lights will jump along wires?”
Doctor Frankwell nodded violently. “No doubt of it. Henry will be up and about . . . Boy, you must have some more Brussels sprouts. Very good for you . . .”
A dramatic interruption cut short his words. From somew
here a little way off came the sound of a loud thud, followed by the tinkle of broken glass. The doctor jumped to his feet.
“Goodness gracious. Daniel—quickly, man, he’s fallen off the table.”
He rushed from the room, closely followed by Daniel, turned left and went running down the passage. At first Rodney decided that whatever was taking place was no business of his, but he was soon creeping down the passage, making his way toward an open door at the far end.
He entered a large room that had probably been a larder at one time, for there were long slate shelves lining the walls and a massive table running down the center. Rodney noted the electrical equipment that stood on shelves, was screwed into the ceiling, and sent coils of copper wire to the table. But his full attention was drawn toward Doctor Frankwell—and the thing that lay on the floor. It was approximately seven feet long; a grotesque human shape, swathed in a green plastic sheet, and it had various colored sockets jutting out from the head, chest, and ribs. The doctor was fussing about like an old hen whose chick had gone astray.
“Careful, Daniel. He may have loosened something. Gently, man.”
Daniel lifted the huge figure and laid it reverently on the table, then stood to one side as Doctor Frankwell fitted wires to the sockets and made adjustments to a dial that was strapped across the stomach.
“No damage done, Daniel. We did our work well. He’s fully charged, and when you pull the big switch he’ll be up and about.”
“Boy here,” Daniel pointed out. “He see all.”
The doctor spun round and there was a most pathetic expression on his face. “Oh, dear! Now the same thing will happen to me, that ruined the work of my great-great-grandfather—the famous Baron Frankenstein. He left the door of his laboratory open and a little girl called Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin got in and later wrote a full account of what she saw—the little beast—that was read by the entire world. I hope you are not addicted to pen and paper, young fellow.”
“Oh no,” Rodney hastened to reassure the little man. “I hate writing. But have you really created a monster?”
“Most certainly not.” Doctor Frankwell looked as indignant as his mild features would allow. “I have designed, manufactured, and will shortly activate a Humanoid-Electronic-Non-lethal-Rapid-developer-Youngster. Henry for short.”
“Good heavens!” Rodney could not tear his fascinated gaze away from the shape on the table. “Did you make it out of . . . dead bodies?”
The doctor laughed gently. “Times have changed and we have progressed since the days of my late lamented great-great-grandfather. I have used a special self-adhesive plastic, some blood substitute fluid that I have called GFI, and an awful lot of electricity.”
“Now boy know everything,” Daniel pointed out.
“Yes, but what does it matter?” The doctor took his spectacles off, wiped them on a corner of Henry’s sheet, then replaced them. “As soon as Henry is up and about, the entire world will know. Can’t you see the headlines? Doctor Frankwell Creates a Man. I expect I’ll be invited to appear on television.”
“Shall I pull big switch now?” Daniel asked.
“Well . . .” the doctor looked undecided until Rodney reminded him of a very important fact.
“We haven’t finished our dinner yet.”
The doctor’s spectacles slipped down his nose and his eyes widened with shocked horror. “Great Scott, you’re right! And the roast lamb will be getting cold.”
They all but ran back to the dining-room and continued their interrupted meal, although the doctor kept jumping up and trotting to his laboratory to make sure that Henry had not fallen off the table again. At length, knives and forks were laid aside, plates were stacked and carried into the kitchen, and Doctor Frankwell beamed at his assistant.
“Daniel—I can think of no reason for further delay. Henry is fully charged, his working parts are in excellent condition—the great moment has arrived.”
Henry certainly appeared to be very lively, if the strange twitching movement that was taking place in every part of the shrouded figure was any criterion. Doctor Frankwell first of all made sure that all the wires were fully connected to the sockets, then turned his head and nodded to Daniel, who was standing by a very large wall switch.
“Now,” he said.
Daniel pulled the lever. Instantly, pulsating streamers of colored light ran along the wires; electric bulbs lit up and flashed on and off like neon signs, and from the far comer of the room a large metal box began to make a loud buzzing sound.
Henry displayed every sign of being well and truly activated. The huge shape was writhing like a cut worm; the sheet-covered head rolled from side to side, and there seemed a distinct possibility that the entire bundle would roll down on to the floor again.
“Daniel!” Doctor Frankwell shouted, his voice shrill with excitement. “Watch him. I am going to increase the current. It’s do or burst!”
Rodney sincerely hoped Henry would not burst. On the other hand, he was not at all sure that he wanted to see a homemade monster walk, either. He seemed to remember that the one created by Baron Frankenstein had not behaved in a civilized manner. He watched the doctor turning knobs, pressing different colored buttons, all of which resulted in the wires becoming brighter, the bulbs flashing more quickly, and the buzzing sound rising to an earsplitting shriek.
Suddenly there was a loud bang and all the lights went out. The wires became dull black, the electric bulbs went pop-pop, one after the other, and the metal box that had been making the awful noise became as silent as a Quaker’s meeting. And Henry? After the doctor had lit three candles, it was easy to see there was no sign of life.
“All the wires are burnt out,” the little doctor sighed deeply. “Three years’ work gone up in puffs of smoke.”
“Perhaps the fuses want mending,” Rodney suggested, surprised to realize that he was disappointed that Henry was not going to walk. But Doctor Frankwell shook his head.
“No, all my equipment is ruined. I overloaded it, you see.”
“I put kettle on,” Daniel stated. “Make tea.”
The doctor smiled bravely. “Well, I suppose we might feel better after a cup of tea. There’s not much we can do here.”
They adjourned to the kitchen where Daniel placed a large iron kettle on the hotplate, then brewed some really excellent tea in a brown pot. There was no doubt that the doctor enjoyed his cup, for he sipped it with every sign of appreciation and had quite recovered from his disappointment after a second one.
“It’s back to the drawing board, Daniel. We must use stouter wiring, double the feedbacks, and install an even bigger switch.”
Daniel said, “Ugh,” but did not seem all that keen.
“In the meanwhile,” the doctor went on, “we might as well get some rest. I dare say we can find our young friend a bed?”
Daniel nodded and poured some of his tea into a saucer.
Rodney was about to express his gratitude when his ears detected a slight sound. A very slow slithering, followed by the creak of protesting floorboards. Daniel also heard it, for his head came up, then turned in the direction of the open doorway.
No one spoke. They just sat, waiting for the impossible to put in an appearance. Now the slithering was alternating with loud thuds. Slither-thud-slither-thud, and the suspense was so intense that Rodney dropped his cup. Then something very large filled the doorway. Still swathed in a plastic sheet, with bits of wire dangling from the colored sockets, with the dial still strapped to its stomach, the Humanoid-Electronic-Non-lethal-Rapid-developer-Youngster lurched into the room and stood swaying like a tall tree in a hundred-mile-per-hour gale. Doctor Frankwell was the first to speak.
“It did work, Daniel! We gave up too soon. Henry is up and about.”
The plastic sheet bulged as two great hands came out and pushed against the confining material. Rodney heard a tearing sound as a long, ragged hole appeared, and one immense and one smaller fist sprang into view and began to p
unch the air in a most aggressive fashion.
“I don’t think he likes us very much,” Rodney gasped.
“Nonsense.” Doctor Frankwell adjusted his spectacles. “He’s just pleased to be alive. Daniel, get him unwrapped. Be careful you don’t hurt him.”
Daniel displayed praiseworthy caution. He approached the monster from the rear and unzipped a long fastener that ran from the top of the swaying head down to the gigantic feet. The sheet fell away, and it took all of Rodney’s self-control not to turn tail and race from the room.
Henry was not at all pretty. A head that resembled a misshapen turnip was surmounted by a mop of red hair. One eye was blue and round, the other brown and slanted. The mouth was extremely wide and filled with large, yellow teeth. The nose could have been mistaken for a parrot’s beak, the ears for the wings of an ancient bat. A mighty chest was flanked by arms of unequal length. Rodney could not see the legs, for the creature was dressed in a long, flannel nightgown, but the feet had much in common with two overturned vegetable dishes.
Doctor Frankwell beamed his delight and was clearly waiting for everyone’s unstinted admiration. “Well—what do you think of him?”
It took a few seconds for Rodney to regain his power of speech.
“He’s—he’s not very handsome—is he?”
“Not handsome!” The doctor frowned, then examined his creation with some anxiety. “How can you say that? Why—he’s positively beautiful. Possibly I could have taken a little more care in the matter of his arms and eyes, but I think that a little irregularity of features can be quite attractive. Daniel, let’s get him into a chair and invite him to take some nourishment.”
Getting Henry to sit down was not all that easy. He took a wide swing at Daniel, then resisted most forcibly when that person exerted all his strength and pushed him into the doctor’s chair. The little man looked at the remains of the leg of lamb and cold baked potatoes.
Terrifying Tales to Tell at Night Page 2
