“Sometimes he had drunk to excess. There was always a lot of liquor in the house and he had helped himself. If Clitheroe knew, and he must have known, he never said anything. Perhaps he understood that Bean couldn’t do the job he did without a stimulant and a sedative. It was no joke, as Bean often said to himself, being the companion, servant, pimp, and nurse of a serious masochist. Most of the young people who came to the house in York Terrace were in it only for the money. They took no more p...leasure in beating a fat old man than Bean did in doing his shopping and cooking his tournedos. But one or two were different. Bean, admitting them to the house, could see it in their faces and in the fixed stare of their half-mesmerized eyes. They were sadists, and when the whip or the cane was in their hands there was no stopping their frenzy. It was then, hearing Clitheroe’s screams and unable to sort pain from pleasure—or were they the same?—that Bean took the brown ale chasers with glass after glass of cheap Spanish brandy.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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