The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [246]
By way of reply Mr. Darrow rumbled something under his breath as he walked out through the gate in the railing with Mr. Maxon. Passing by our rows of seats, Mr. Darrow took our group in with a cold glare; but then, recognizing the Doctor’s face, he caught himself and turned around to approach the front row of chairs with a more friendly air.
“It’s Dr. Kreizler, isn’t it?” he said, the deep voice now becoming very genial. The Doctor shook the hand what Mr. Darrow offered. “I’m a great admirer of your work, Doctor, if you’ll permit me to say so.”
“I will,” the Doctor answered, studying the lawyer as he smiled engagingly. “Thank you, Mr. Darrow.”
“Tell me, sir,” Mr. Darrow went on, “is it true that you’re acting as an adviser to the prosecution in this case?”
“That fact surprises you?” the Doctor asked.
“I’ll admit that it does,” Mr. Darrow answered. “I wouldn’t have thought you the kind of man to get involved in satisfying the state’s desire to punish whatever person they could actually catch, just so that they can write an end to this mysterious tragedy.”
“Is that my motivation, Mr. Darrow?”
Shrugging his big shoulders, Mr. Darrow said, “I can’t think of any other. And I’ve got to say, such behavior doesn’t sound like you. But maybe I’ve formed a wrong impression. Or maybe you’ve got your own reasons for doing business with the state of New York.” Seeing the Doctor’s eyes go a little wider at this barely disguised reference to the investigation into the Kreizler Institute’s affairs what was still going on in New York, Mr. Darrow smiled. “Whatever the case, I hope we’ll get a chance to talk at some point. Outside of court, I mean. I’m being wholly honest when I say that I admire what you do. What you—generally do. Good morning.”
The Doctor nodded once, still smiling. “Good morning to you, sir.”
Mr. Darrow followed Mr. Maxon to the mahogany doors, where they were immediately buttonholed by Mr. Grose and a few other newspapermen who’d come down from Saratoga.
“Clever man,” the Doctor said, watching Mr. Darrow hold court with the journalists in a way what showed that the Chicago lawyer was very at home with the process.
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Picton said, coming over to join us. “A clever, sanctimonious prig, wrapped up in the broadcloth of the people.” Turning to pack up his briefcase, Mr. Picton laughed once, hard. “One of the easiest kinds of people to irk!”
“You were certainly doing your best, Rupert,” Mr. Moore said, with a shake of his head. “Do you want to spend this trial bickering with the man?”
“I’m sure the Doctor will agree, John,” Mr. Picton answered, sticking his unlit pipe into his mouth. “That when a man is perpetually irritated he’s far more likely to make errors of judgment than might otherwise be the case.”
“Yes, I thought that was your purpose, Mr. Picton,” the Doctor answered. “And you achieved it admirably.”
“Oh, nothing to it,” Mr. Picton answered, tucking his briefcase under his arm. “Lawyers like that, as I’ve told you, generally think they have nothing to learn from Jesus Christ himself when it comes to being saviors with a mission. Annoying them is like falling off of a log, really. Well! The opening’s gone well, but I’d like to regroup and go over our next set of steps, if it’s all right with you, Doctor.” Taking out his watch again, Mr. Picton checked it. “We can talk in my office, if you like.”
“Of course,” the Doctor answered, leading the way up the aisle and around the little group of newspapermen who were still throwing questions