The Alienist - Caleb Carr [160]
“And why,” Laszlo finally asked, “should I wish to spread such unrest, sir?”
“Vanity, sir!” Comstock shot back. “To advance your nefarious theories, and gain the attention of an ill-educated and sorely confused public!”
“It seems to me,” Morgan said, quietly but firmly, “that Dr. Kreizler already receives more attention from the public than he might prefer, Mr. Comstock.” None of the others even attempted to agree or disagree with this statement. Morgan rested his head on one large hand and spoke to Laszlo. “But these are serious charges, Doctor. If they were not, I would hardly have asked that you be brought to this meeting. I take it you are not in league with Mr. Kelly?”
“Mr. Kelly has a few ideas that are not altogether unsound,” Kreizler answered, knowing that the comment would further pique the group around us. “But he is essentially a criminal, and I have no use for him.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Morgan seemed genuinely satisfied with the answer. “And what of these other questions, about the social implications of your work? I must admit that I am not well acquainted with such matters. But as you may know, I am senior warden of St. George’s Church, across Stuyvesant Park from your own house.” One of Morgan’s coal-black eyebrows went up. “I have never seen you among the congregation, Doctor.”
“My religious opinions are a private matter, Mr. Morgan,” Laszlo replied.
“But surely you realize, Dr. Kreizler,” Archbishop Corrigan interrupted cautiously, “that our city’s various church organizations are vital to the maintenance of civic order?”
As these words were coming out of Corrigan’s mouth, I found myself glancing at the two priests, who continued to stand like statues behind their respective bishops—and suddenly, I got an inkling as to just why we were in that library and talking to that collection of men. This germ of understanding began to grow as soon as it flashed across my brain, but I said nothing, for comment would only have sparked further disagreement. No, I simply sat back and let my thoughts run on, becoming more comfortable as I recognized that Laszlo and I were in less danger than I’d originally thought.
“‘Order,’” Kreizler replied to Corrigan’s query, “is a word rather open to interpretation, Archbishop. As to your concerns, Mr. Morgan—if what you required was an introduction to my work, I believe I could have suggested an easier route than abduction.”
“No doubt,” Morgan answered uneasily. “But as we are here, Doctor, perhaps you will favor me with an answer. These men have come to solicit my aid in putting an end to your investigation. I would like to hear both sides of the issue before deciding on a course of action.”
Kreizler sighed heavily, but did go on: “The theory of individual psychological context that I have developed—”
“Rank determinism!” Comstock declared, unable to contain himself. “The idea that every man’s behavior is decisively patterned in infancy and youth—it speaks against freedom, against responsibility! Yes, I say it is un-American!”
At another annoyed glance from Morgan, Bishop Potter laid a calming hand on Comstock’s arm, and the postal censor relapsed into disgruntled silence.
“I have never,” Kreizler went on, keeping his eyes on Morgan, “argued against the idea that every man is responsible before the law for his actions, save in cases involving the truly mentally diseased.