The Grave Robber's Secret (7 page)

At the hospital, the driver hopped down. “I'll get the child,” he said, and Robby was glad. He could have carried the thin body, but it was better for him to run ahead for the doctor. The driver followed him to the big wooden door on the first floor. Robby had not even thought that it might be better to take her upstairs.

The door was unlocked, and Robby shouted, “Help,” as soon as they were inside. Dr. Bell came from one of the classrooms. “A little girl,” Robby called. “A horse ran into her.”

“Take her to the surgery.” He motioned for the man to follow him to the fifth room. “Put her on the table,” he said, and the man did.

“We will be a-praying for your sister,” the driver said before he went out the door, and Robby thanked him.

Dr. Bell lighted the big lamps. “I was about to leave. We let the students go early today. Is this your sister?” he asked when he was beside the table again.

“No.” Robby shook his head. “They thought so, but she's not. She was selling matches on the street. Her name is Dolly. Please fix her, sir, please.”

“Dolly?” the doctor said. “Dolly, can you hear me?”

She did not open her eyes, but her lips moved. “Hurts,” she whispered. “So bad.”

The doctor took her hand. He leaned close to the girl's ear. “Show me,” he said, and he laid her hand on her abdomen. “Show me where it hurts, Dolly.” His voice was low, but insistent. “Show me with your hand.”

Dolly moved her hand to her left side. “Here,” she managed to say.

Dr. Bell's fingers moved over the spot, and he pressed once. Dolly screamed. “Likely it's her spleen. Robby, run upstairs and tell the woman at the desk that I need a nurse and some ether. I've got to operate.” He moved to the steel basin and began to wash his hands.

Robby flew out the door and up the stairs two at a time. Once his foot missed slightly, but he grabbed at the rail and did not slow down. At the top of the stairs, he saw two women in white smocks behind a counter not far from the front door.

He opened his mouth to shout, but the run had depleted his breath, and he had to rest for a second before he called, “Dr. Bell sent me for a nurse and ether. He's got to operate.” Without waiting, he turned and ran back. Downstairs, he was surprised to see one of the women step into the hall, a large glass container in her hands. On her arm were several cloths. She moved to room five, slightly ahead of Robby.

“How did you get here so fast?” he asked.

The woman did not slow her pace. “There's an elevator back there.” She leaned her head backward slightly. “It is for use by the staff only.”

They were at the door now. Robby did not turn back to try to see, but he would look for the elevator another time. He had heard of them but had never seen one.

“Nurse Bigbey,” said Dr. Bell. “Good. Give me the ether. I'll use it while you scrub. Robby, you wash up too. In case we need you.”

The doctor poured the ether into a small steel bowl and soaked a heavy cloth in it. The smell filled the room, and Robby, washing his hands, thought for a moment that the smell would make him vomit. He swallowed and willed himself not to be sick.

A small table holding a tray with sparkling instruments now stood beside where Dolly lay. “Robby, stand on the other side, and don't move unless we say so. You can hold her hand if you want.” Dr. Bell laid the cloth over Dolly's closed lips and nose. “She's unconscious again, but we need to make sure she stays that way.”

After a time he moved the cloth away, threw it on the table, and held out his hand. Robby watched the nurse put a knife with a long thin blade into the doctor's hand. He did not watch the cut.

He closed his eyes and prayed, “Please, God, let Lolly live.” Even when he realized he was thinking of the wrong name, he did not change it. Doubtless God knew who he meant, and the name went so well with the prayer.

The room was quiet until the doctor spoke. “Yes, it's her spleen. Sponge. I think I can repair the injury. I've got to soak up the blood and close the wound.”

Robby let his eyes flit open for a second, and he saw the doctor working on a purplish organ, soaking up blood. He closed his eyes again. “I'm ready to sew it up now,” the doctor said, and after a few minutes he added, “Ready to close now.”

Robby, still praying, opened his eyes to see Dr. Bell with a big needle and thread, sewing the incision closed while Nurse Bigbey used sponges to stop the bleeding. Suddenly, Robby's knees went weak, and fearing he would fall, he moved away from the table and sank into a straight-backed chair near the wall.

“She will be asleep for a long time,” said the doctor. “Do you have any idea where this child lives, Robby?”

“I don't.” A sudden frightening thought came to his mind. “I don't think her family could have much money.”

“We do not turn away people because they are poor here, not in Philadelphia.” The doctor put down his needle. “You go on home, Robby,” he said. “We will get this child upstairs and into a bed. You can see her tomorrow if you want. By that time, I hope she will be able to tell us where she lives.”

With a great effort, Robby pushed himself up from the chair. “Will she be all right?”

“I hope so, but we won't know for a while. I think I've repaired the spleen. Now we have to worry about infection.” Robby saw the nurse pour medicine on a large cloth and begin to wipe at Dolly's stomach where the doctor had cut her.

“Wait, Robby,” Dr. Bell called just before Robby opened the door. The doctor came to him, put his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out some coins. “Take a trolley home.” He put the money in Robby's hand. “You're far too tired to walk that distance.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you from me and from …” He paused, concentrating hard on the name. “Thank you from me and from Dolly.” The doctor smiled and touched Robby's shoulder as he left the hospital.

“Robby,” Ma shouted when he came in the back door, and she jumped from her rocking chair. “We was worried about you, powerful worried. Where have you been?” Martha was there too, with the Hans Christian Andersen book open on the table where she sat.

“I've seen a marvelous thing,” he said. “I've seen Dr. Bell do a surgery. I've seen him save a life.” His voice was low and full of wonder, and he told them every detail of the story.

Martha gasped when he told of the horse running wild into the little girl, but neither she nor his mother spoke. They leaned toward him, listening, until the story was finished.

“I was just reading ‘The Little Match Girl' to your mother,” said Martha when he stopped talking. “May I go with you tomorrow to see her?”

“What would your father say about that?” Robby looked over his shoulder toward the parlor door. “Where is he now?”

“Gone out,” said Martha.

“And your da too?” said Ma. She went to the stove to get a plate of food from supper. “You missed two meals, must be starved.”

“Did Da go with Mr. Burke?”

“No,” said Ma. “Doubtless your da is at the pub.”

Robby looked at Martha, who shrugged. “Papa's gone off to his business,” she said. “I don't know what he does.”

Robby was glad the men were gone. The house was peaceful and friendly. “You should see how Martha managed Jane, Ma,” he said while he ate. “It was pure a sight to see.”

Ma put butter on bread for Robby and looked over at Martha. “It's a gift, sweetheart. One God means you to use.”

Martha's cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. “We mustn't mention anything about Jane to Papa,” she said. “He tries too hard to protect me.”

After he had eaten, Robby went up to say hello to Miss Stone, but found her sleeping. He went back downstairs, laid out his pallet, and fell immediately to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

T
he next morning Ma stood at the stove scrambling eggs when Da came in. Robby did not meet his father's eyes. There had been no communication between them since those moments of unusual kindness on Da's part in Miss Stone's room. Robby was far more accustomed to his father's anger and did not know how to react to any kindness from him.

Da went to the stove to look into the skillet. “Smells good,” he said, “and you've made a big batch. Our lodger is a small fellow, but he can put food away.” He glanced quickly at Martha, who had just come into the kitchen. “Not that I begrudge the man a bite, no sirree, Bob, not a bite.”

Mr. Burke came next through the swinging door, and he smiled at Robby. “Smile back,” Robby told himself, “act normal,” but, remembering the walking stick between his feet, he felt a shiver go up his spine, and he wondered again what business Burke went to each day.

“Papa,” said Martha when they were all settled at the table, “yesterday Robby saw a little girl who sells matches get injured by a runaway horse. He took her to the hospital and watched the doctor do surgery on her. Isn't that amazing?” She turned her gaze to Robby. “What was the body part they fixed? I can't remember the name.”

“Spleen.” He put his hand to the left side. “It's right here, kind of behind the stomach. I don't know what it does, the spleen, I mean, but I want to find out.”

Mr. Burke curled his lip in a sneer. “Really, Robby, I don't care to have discussions of body parts with my breakfast. Besides, the poor little urchin would have been better off left to die.”

Martha gasped. “Papa, how can you say such a thing?”

“I only meant, dear, that the child must have a very hard life. It might well have been a kindness to shorten it.”

“Well,” said Martha, her cheeks burning with anger, “I don't think so.”

“Me neither,” said Robby. Without saying anything more, he took his plate and went to finish his eggs on the stairs. He was still there when Martha came into the parlor to say good-bye to her father.

“I really am sorry for upsetting you, my dear,” said Burke. Evidently he had already apologized once, and Martha must have announced her plans to visit the child. “You know I could never be unkind.” Robby, listening from the stairs, had to fight the urge to cry out in protest. Burke took his wallet from his pocket and pulled some bills from it. “Here,” he said, handing Martha the money. “You and Robby should ride the trolley to the hospital. Buy all the child's matches from her. You can give them to the Hares.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Martha said, and she kissed him good-bye.

After the man was gone, Robby came down the stairs and went into the parlor. “Oh, look,” Martha said. “Papa left his walking stick.”

“I'll go catch him,” Robby said. He grabbed up the stick and ran. “Tell Ma I might be gone for a while,” he yelled over his shoulder. Outside, he could easily see William Burke at the end of the block, but he did not hurry or call out to him.

The stick was a perfect excuse to follow the man. He was determined to see what business Burke went to each day. On the second block, Robby could not see him. He moved slowly forward and was in front of two buildings with a small space between them when suddenly Burke stepped out to stand in front of him.

“I don't like to be spied on, Robby,” he said coldly. “Of course, I am glad you brought my stick, but I wonder why you did not call out to me earlier.” He laughed, and it sounded to Robby less like mirth than evil. “I knew you were behind me. Don't try to outwit me, my boy. You will fail.”

Robby stood, unable to think of a response. Just before Burke grabbed the stick, Robby's eyes fell on the handle. Engraved in the gold top was the name “Jacob Taylor.” Robby looked away quickly, but he felt Burke's eyes on him, felt Burke's knowing what he had seen.

Burke smiled. “I am quite attached to my stick. I've no need to lean on it, but I like to have it with me for protection.” He touched the gold handle. “I dare say I could kill a man with one blow over the head with this, should it ever prove necessary to resort to such violence.”

Again, Robby could think of no reply, and anyway, his mouth had gone too dry to speak. He nodded and stood absolutely still as he watched William Burke walk away. Who was Jacob Taylor?

Robby knew this was his chance to follow, but he could not move. His eyes strained to watch as long as he could see the man, then he turned back. When he got home, Martha was in her room feeding her cat from an old cup Ma had given her. “Did you catch Papa?” she asked when she saw Robby at the door.

“I did,” he said. “Did you know the name Jacob Taylor is on his walking stick?”

She looked down and began to stroke the kitten that had come to sit on Martha's lap. “I had forgotten about the writing,” she whispered.

“Is Jacob Taylor your papa's real name?”

“No, the stick already had the name on it when Papa got it.” She put down the kitten. “Why are you always asking me questions? Let's get ready to go to the hospital.”

Robby felt anger rise up inside him. He thought he and Martha had become friends, but he knew she was not telling him the whole truth about the stick. He'd had enough of the girl and her secrets. “I'm not supposed to ask you anything about a man who lives in my own house? Well, I'll tell you this: I intend to find out what business he goes to each day, and if it is not honest work, I'll go to the police about it!” He stepped back out of the room and slammed the door. In the hallway, he stood quietly and listened. He could hear Martha's sobs. Well, he told himself, let her cry, but before he was down the stairs, she called to him.

“Wait, Robby.” He looked back to see her leaning over the upstairs rail. “I'm sorry I was cross with you.”

His anger drained. Poor thing, it must be terrible for her, having Burke as a father and her with no mother. Da was not the best father in the world, but he was a dozen times better than William Burke.

“I'm sorry too,” he said, and he turned to go up again. “Let's see Miss Stone before we go.”

They found her sitting in her rocker. “I ate every bite of the breakfast your mother brought me this morning,” she said, and Robby could see that she looked much stronger.

They told her then about Jane and about little Dolly. “Oh, Robby,” she said, “what a wonderful experience for you, watching a doctor save a life!” She paused for a second, thinking. “The spleen, ah yes, that is an organ that helps filter our blood, and it helps us fight infections too. I am glad they did not have to remove the little girl's.”

After the good-byes were said, Robby and Martha were out on the street again and enjoying the nice day.

“I wonder if anyone ever caught that runaway horse,” Martha said when they were seated on the trolley.

The memory of the animal's speed flashed through Robby's mind. He shrugged. “I don't know, but if they didn't, he's certain to be far from Philadelphia.”

At the hospital, Robby led Martha to the big front steps, feeling rather proud of knowing his way about. “They have an elevator here,” he said. “Have you ever been on an elevator?”

Martha shook her head. “Me neither,” he said. “This one is for doctors and nurses to ride, not regular people, but I mean to see it when I start work here tomorrow.” The place smelled strongly of medicine and of the polish used to make the wooden floors shine.

At the big counter, they asked to see Dolly. “Are you Robby?” the nurse asked.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Bell said you would be here and that we are to let you see the child, but only briefly. Follow me.” She smiled. “You may bring your friend. Do not go near the patient, just step inside the curtains for a moment.”

They followed the nurse into a big room with curtains around beds. One curtain was open, and an old woman sat up in the bed. “Come see me, children,” she called, but the nurse shook her head.

About halfway through the huge room, the nurse stopped. A woman sat in a chair just outside the curtain. Her dress was shabby, but her face was pretty. Robby could see that she looked like Dolly. “This is Dolly's mother,” the nurse said. “The child was able to tell us this morning where she lives.”

The woman stood. “Are ye Robby?” A big smile covered her thin face. “The doctor said you saved my little girl, getting her here so quick-like. I'm obliged to you, ever so obliged.”

The nurse pulled back the curtain for Robby and Martha to step inside the cubicle. Dolly was asleep, but her skin no longer looked like chalk. “She looks better,” Robby whispered. He wondered if she had been able to eat anything, and he asked the nurse.

“Too soon,” she said, “but by this evening we can give her broth. She's going to be all right, we believe.” She pulled the curtain closed. “You two should go out quietly now,” she said. “I am going to tend to another patient.” She hurried away.

“I have something for you,” Martha said to Dolly's mother, who had sat back down, and she took the bills from her pocket. “My papa wanted you to have this,” she said, and she laid the money in the woman's lap.

“Oh!” Tears spilled from the woman's eyes. “Thank you for bringing this gift, and thank your sainted father for me too.”

“I will,” said Martha. Robby looked down at his shoes, thinking how wrong the word “saint” sounded in describing Burke.

The ride home was uneventful. Robby avoided seeing Burke at both the noon and evening meals by carrying his plate up along with the one he took to Miss Stone.

That night as he lay on his pallet, Robby made a plan. Tomorrow he would go to the hospital to work, but first he would follow Burke. Telling his mother that he wanted to get an early start, he would leave before breakfast. He knew the direction the man took. Perhaps he could press himself into a doorway and watch for Burke to walk by. Then he could follow after him and learn where he went.

In the morning, Robby got to the kitchen just before Ma. “I need to go to the hospital today to work for Dr. Bell,” he said.

“Take time to eat something first.” Ma carried the water bucket to the stove to dip up water for boiling.

Robby shook his head. “I'm not hungry,” he said, but he took some bread and a cake of sausage, wrapped the food in a cloth, and put it in his pocket. He hurried down the street, looking behind him every few feet to make sure Burke was not yet out on the sidewalk. Not far from where he had seen the man turn, Robby spotted a house with a sheltered front stoop. He could hunker down there and wait. If someone came out the front door, the worst that could happen would be that they might hit him with something. He had been hit before.

Crouching so that he was not noticeable from the street, he waited. Finally he saw Burke, wearing his stovepipe hat and swinging his walking stick. Robby waited until he passed before he slipped from the stoop and began to follow.

For a time, he moved very slowly, but when Burke turned the corner, Robby ran after him. There were other people on the streets now, and Robby stayed back, his eyes straining for a glimpse of Burke's big hat. Twice he lost sight of him, but both times he rounded a corner to see him again in the distance.

The man walked briskly, a destination clearly in mind. In front of a large tavern, he stopped, adjusted his fancy black jacket, and went inside. Robby was amazed. Was this where Burke spent his days? He had never detected the smell of strong drink on the man.

After a few minutes Robby eased the door open. At first, he could not see into the dark room, but gradually the view became plain. Some men sat at a long bar with a few others at tables scattered about the room. There was no sign of William Burke. Growing braver, Robby stepped just inside for another look. No one seemed to notice him, and he continued to search the room with his eyes. No Burke in sight. Then he saw a door in the back wall. Burke must have gone through that door. Robby backed quickly from the room.

Outside he went to the side of the building. To his delight, a tree grew by a window. He had noticed no window in that side of the tavern. This had to be a window in the backroom. Grasping the lowest branch, Robby swung his legs up to lock around the tree. In no time, he rested comfortably on the second bough, directly beside the open window. Carefully, he stretched his body on the limb, giving himself the perfect view. A strong light came from a lantern inside, and Robby, shaded as he was from the sun, could plainly see William Burke. He sat at a round table with three other men. His top hat and long jacket hung from a nearby rack. His walking stick leaned against the table and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled an inch or so below his elbows. All of the other men had drinks beside them or in their hands. William Burke had none. All four had wallets, and Robby watched as they removed bills and placed them in the center of the table. Burke rolled a pair of dice. “Come seven or eleven!” he called.