The Vorrh

paper and ink now she would make another.’
    Muybridge wanted to ask dozens of questions, but none of them could be answered by Gull, and possibly not by the woman. Feebly, he settled for the easiest.
    ‘Does she know what it is?’
    ‘It’s impossible to say, she never speaks.’
    ‘But I heard her. Those strange sounds.’
    ‘Yes, she makes strange sounds, but never speech. Sometimes she cries like an animal, or sings like a bird: her cell sounds like a veritable menagerie! But never words, no matter what insistence or inducement is applied.’
    The man called Rice steered her back to the bed, from where steam was gently rising. Three bowls of water, a towel and a rubber Higginson tube were under the bed, hastily stowed there when they had arrived mid-treatment. Gull gripped Muybridge’s cringing arm again, and propelled him jovially from the room. They resumed their conversation in Gull’s office, which was small and surprisingly sparse.
    ‘It’s Josephine I had in mind for your photographic studies. She has an astonishing range of facial expressions. Each of them can be summoned with the aid of a mirror and a bell. I would love to have a record of her before she is gone forever.’
    ‘Where is she going?’ asked Muybridge blankly.
    ‘She has been here for two years and has been wonderfully responsive to my experiments. She can produce demonstrations of willpower that would stagger you, and there is no trace of any side effects. But I think it is time to stop. I don’t want to push her any further. Surgeons have instinct about such matters; it’s an unteachable aspect of our profession. It only grows out of experience. I feel that if she went further, she might turn, and that implacable strength might curdle and turn inwards or even worse. But she is stable and healthy now, you saw that for yourself.’
    ‘She refuses to speak?’
    ‘Yes. That won’t change. It’s from her childhood. Deeply rooted. Her parents were brought over here in the last batches of slave cargoes. She was born some years after abolition was finally enforced. She must have experienced some appalling poverty, possibly depravity. Enough to remove her from conversation entirely. But she understands everything. It could be seen as a blessing, having such a beauty graced with silence. None of that endless female prattle that most of us have to put up with.’ Gull chuckled without mirth. ‘Anyway, what I want is a series of photographs over the next few years.’
    ‘But sir, I am far too busy to give up so much time on one study. My work in America and beyond demands my constant attention. And I’m not sure a portfolio of medical portraits would sit well with the rest of my oeuvre.’
    ‘Quite right, indeed I would not ask such a thing of you. You are a busy and important man, I can see that, though I know nothing of your oeuvre or any artistic matter. These pictures would be for my attention, and mine alone; a special commission. Let me explain: I am a wealthy man with few expenses except for this little folly. I intend to observe some of my special cases for the rest of their or my life, to see what long-term effects my treatments can have, and maybe adjust them every so often. The laws are changing, and private clinics like this are falling under the same bureaucratic, maternal dogmas that now so blight our major hospitals.’
    Gull had again fixed him with his demanding stare; it was clear he was determined to have his way.
    ‘So, to the point: I intend to release Josephine and some others. Set them up in their own rooms and keep them fed and well and off the streets. I will do this close to London Bridge, so that I might have easy access to them. In her case, I will rent an extra room and furnish it with photographic equipment to your specification. This means that you may visit her and achieve the portraits whenever you are passing through the city.’
    Muybridge was tempted. He liked the secrecy of the process: it appealed to his natural and tuned acclivities. He found the woman striking, remarkable even, and he could see that pictures of her would indeed be very fine. But wasn’t he being treated like a mere hireling? There was nothing in it to increase his esteem or proffer greater awareness of his talents, and the good surgeon obviously had his own motivation in all of this, though that meant they would surely be protected against any public and malicious rumour. He, too, was a man of position and standing, all