The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [309]
“Lemme down!” I whispered to Cyrus, who grabbed my arms and lowered me to the floor, more gracefully this time. I opened the office door and stuck my head in to see Mr. Maxon helping Libby to her feet.
“Stevie, would you ask Henry to come back up and escort Mrs. Hunter back to her cell?” Mr. Picton asked.
I just nodded and bolted off again—though this time, I got only as far as the second-floor hallway:
There, pacing nervously, was Henry, smoking on a cigarette what he held in one hand and biting the fingernails of his other paw between drags.
“Say!” I called to him. “Mr. Picton says Mrs. Hunter’s supposed to go back to her cell.”
Throwing his cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out with one of his heavy boots, Henry rushed past me into the office. I didn’t even have time to get back in myself before he’d reappeared with his charge, who looked for all the world as though the roof of her world had just caved in. I had no reason to think that she didn’t really feel that way; and as I watched her wander toward the stairs, my own spirits began to pick up considerably, though in a quiet sort of way. The speedy departure of Mr. Maxon only increased this mood; and when I finally got back into Mr. Picton’s office, I found that everybody else was feeling about the same: happy, yes, but sort of stunned at how quickly the whole thing had turned around.
Mr. Moore was the first one to actually say anything: “Well, what’s the procedure, here, Rupert? Is it time to celebrate, or …” His words trailed off as he looked to his friend.
Mr. Picton just smiled, shrugged, and tried not to look too excited. “Guardedly, John—guardedly. Judge Brown still has to approve the deal, and he’s not very fond of surprises.”
“Still,” Miss Howard said, also not sure just how happy she ought to let herself get, “he can’t quash it, can he? Not when the defendant herself has agreed.”
“I, Sara,” Mr. Picton answered, starting to organize some papers on his desk, “am a particularly superstitious person. Which I’m sure hasn’t escaped you. I would not care to make any predictions about what will happen tomorrow morning,”
“What about you, Doctor?” Lucius asked.
The Doctor had wandered over to Mr. Picton’s window, and was looking down at the Presbyterian church. “Hmm?” he noised.
“Any prediction to make?” Lucius said. “Or is there still something that doesn’t feel right about it to you?”
“Not about it, Lucius,” the Doctor answered. “About her. The deal itself is quite sound, and I’m convinced that Judge Brown, though possessed of a singularly rigid mind, will approve it.”
Mr. Picton made a little hissing noise; and though he was smiling, he seemed more than a bit uneasy. “I do wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Doctor …”
“Oh, come on, Rupert!” Mr. Moore said, allowing his spirits to rise a bit. “Leave all that mumbo jumbo to the darker regions of the world! You’re the master of your own fate in this case, I don’t know how you could have demonstrated that any more clearly. You and Kreizler—yes, and you, too, Sara. You’ve pulled off a coup, and I say we ought to get back to your house and crack open some of that very excellent champagne I saw hidden away in one corner of your cellar.”
“Hear, hear,” Marcus agreed. “Come on, all of you. We’ve been on the ropes for so long that we’ve forgotten what it feels like to land a solid blow. Solid blow, hell—we’ve knocked the stuffing out of them!”
Watching the Doctor carefully, Cyrus said, “It does seem like the tide’s turned.”
I was starting to get swept up in the growing mood of victory, myself; but then a practical thought struck me. “What about Kat?” I said. “Shouldn’t we try to get word to her?”
“Not yet, Stevie,” the Doctor answered quickly. “Not until Judge Brown has made the arrangement official. Miss Devlin will only put herself in danger, if she makes any unusual moves before we have returned