Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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Due to our consistent, solid, reproducible results, we have enjoyed the indulgence of the Boston law enforcement for this long—but the day may come when they realize what we are, and what we do. If we delay too long (as in this Fall River catastrophe), or fail too much (and greatly did we fail in this particular matter) . . . then the day may come when we are revealed as being too strange for them. They will blame us for the very horrors we seek to solve and remedy. They will cast us out like witches—and that’s if we’re lucky.
But I digress.
Something tells me you’ll stop reading there and begin swearing aloud, calling for Miss Ellen to seek me out and fire me on the spot . . . but you really shouldn’t. After all, I’m about to answer the laundry list of questions you put forth, in the wake of my initial response—wherein you called my research “incomplete” and my notes “full of holes.” Of course it was incomplete and aerated; I was given neither the time nor the support to provide the fuller picture you ostensibly desired. If you actually wanted to see the scope of this thing, you should’ve left me to my own devices.
I have always performed best that way, and you damned well know it.
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With regard to Nance O’Neil, actress and woman of dubious moral fiber: No trace has yet been found, and I’d be astonished if that ever changes. I know her manager does not wish to hear my recommendation, but he can get in a very long line, I suppose—because here it is: She ought to be declared dead, and perhaps have a memorial plaque installed upon some theater house, somewhere, if people really cannot let it go.
The girl is gone. Whatever came for her, took her—and won’t likely be persuaded to give her back.
According to the Borden sisters, she’d been ailing for some time before she vanished. Sleepwalking! That was their feeble explanation, and they had no plans to tell me the truth; that much was clear. And what could I possibly do about it? Argue? Threaten? Hardly a gentleman’s response to the younger Borden’s clear and authentic anguish. Besides, she may not really know. Being a witness to something and fully understanding it are hardly the same thing.
For that matter, it wouldn’t be a chivalrous response to the elder sister, either, though Emma lends the impression that she’s almost glad to be rid of Miss O’Neil. Whatever happened in that house, to that girl, wherever she’s gone . . . Emma knows as much of the answer as anyone (however little that may be), but she’ll speak of it no sooner than Lizzie.