The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [159]
Mr. Moore snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Anyway, it works wonders in court, but in conversation it can be a little much—” Banging into the closed front door of our car as the train came to a halt, Mr. Moore started for the steps. “I just wanted to warn you—he’s as nice a person as you’ll ever meet, but thoughts just come into his head and shoot right out of his mouth. So don’t take anything he says too personally, all right?” Checking each of our faces, Mr. Moore nodded once, and then we followed him out onto the platform.
Mr. Rupert Picton was still pacing and smoking, those big silver eyes looking very anxious. When Mr. Moore saw the sight, he grinned in a heartfelt way.
“Picton!” he called, walking toward his friend on the platform. “Good God, man, you look like you’re going to have kittens!”
“Your train’s late!” answered Mr. Picton, smiling through what he seemed to realize was very obvious nervousness. “They’re always late, these days—we can talk about going to war with Spain, but we can’t make our trains run on time! How are you, John?”
“Fine, fine,” Mr. Moore answered, as the rest of us joined him. “Let me introduce you to the others. This is Miss Sara Howard—”
“Hello, Mr. Picton,” Miss Howard said, extending a hand. “I’m afraid I’m the one who started all this unfortunate business.”
“Nonsense, Miss Howard,” Mr. Picton answered, shaking her hand vigorously and talking not only a lot, but at a very fast pace. “You mustn’t think that way. You didn’t start it—Libby Hatch did, when she first drew innocent blood and found that she had a taste for it! What you have started is an end to her sinister tale, and you should be proud that—ah! And here’s Dr. Kreizler!” The active little hand shot out again. “I recognize you from the pictures that have appeared with your monographs, sir—fascinating work, yours is, fascinating!”
“Thank you, Mr. Picton. It’s kind of you to—”
But Mr. Picton had already turned to Lucius and Marcus; he grinned and grabbed each of their hands in turn. “And I assume that you gentlemen are the Detective Sergeants Isaacson?”
Marcus smiled, and had just managed to say, “Why, yes—” before he was cut off.
“Don’t go crediting me with any powers of detection,” Mr. Picton said. “None greater than smell, at any rate. There is a vague aroma of sulfuric acid—”
Lucius cast his brother a hard glance as he took his turn shaking Mr. Picton’s hand. “I’m sorry about that, sir. If someone hadn’t made me perform that strychnine test again before we left New York …”
“I hope you’ve brought all your chemicals and devices along,” Mr. Picton answered, nodding encouragingly. “We’ll need them. Now, then, let’s get your things together—”
Cyrus and I, having found a porter to help us tend to the baggage as we watched all this, now approached the group from behind our host. Cyrus cleared his throat just once—but once was enough to make Mr. Picton, who hadn’t seen us coming, shoot into the air.
“Great jumping cats!” he cried, spinning on Cyrus. “Who’re you? Ah! Don’t tell me—John wrote about you. You’re Dr. Kreizler’s man, correct? Mr.—ah—ah—”
“May I present Mr. Cyrus Montrose,” the Doctor said, at which Mr. Picton shook Cyrus’s big hand. “As well as Master Stevie Taggert. Both associates of mine.”
Mr. Picton turned his hand in my direction, and I stuck my own out to receive his jolting shake. “Master Taggert! Good to meet you! Well—” He stood back and put his hands to his hips, taking us in. “So this is the group that has actually put fear into that murderess’s heart, eh? I admire you for it, I must say! Libby Hatch certainly never had anything to be nervous about in this county, I can tell you. Let’s get your bags onto my rig, and get over to my place. We need to get to business as soon as we can! Porter—follow me!”
“Your place?” Mr. Moore said. “But Rupert, I made reservations at the Eagle Hotel—”
“And I canceled them,” Mr. Picton answered. “I’ve got a house big enough for a regiment, John, with just me and the housekeeper. I won’t hear of you staying anywhere