Still scowling, Judge Brown nodded. “I’m afraid I must agree with the state here, Mr. Darrow. The burden may be on them to prove their allegations, but until they’ve failed, I cannot accept your assertion that Mrs. Hunter has endured any such tragedy, and I must ask you not to further inflame what is already a very emotional matter by making such statements. You have a request regarding bail?”
“We do, Your Honor,” Mr. Darrow answered. “If, indeed, my client is guilty of violence against children, it’ll be the first that this or any other state knows about it. Besides being a devoted mother, she’s been a governess and a nurse to many children other than her own, and in that capacity has often behaved as heroically as she did on the night in question. We ask that you recognize that she is no threat either to the state’s witnesses or to the community and that, given the delicacy of both her sex and her nature, you post a reasonable bail, to prevent her languishing in the county jail for the duration of what may be a protracted proceeding.”
With the crowd-and those of us in the first two rows especially-waiting anxiously, Judge Brown rocked back in his chair, almost disappearing behind the bench. He stayed there for a minute or so before sitting forward again.
“The court appreciates Mr. Darrow’s remarks concerning the gender and character of the defendant,” he said slowly. “But it also notes that she is charged with a capital crime of a particularly violent and passionate nature. We regret any discomfort it may cause, and shall instruct Sheriff Dunning to make every possible provision to ensure that Mrs. Hunter’s stay in this building will be, if not a pleasant, then at least a bearable one. But bail itself is denied.”
That set the crowd mumbling again, and the judge went to work with the gavel. “I remind our guests of my earlier remarks!” he said. “And I assure them that they were in earnest!” With quiet restored, Judge Brown looked at the two tables below him. “We will reconvene on Tuesday morning at nine o’clock for the purpose of beginning jury selection. But before we go, let me once more emphasize something to both sides in this case: the court is aware of the feelings aroused by this matter, and urges both of you to refrain from any blatant appeals to emotion or popular sentiment. It won’t do either cause any good, and may injure your purposes beyond repair. Court is adjourned!”
Another bang of the gavel, and we all got to our feet, as Judge Brown made his way back down to the door behind the bench and then disappeared through it. As soon as he was gone, the room roared to life with conversation and comment again, particularly once Sheriff Dunning and Bailiff Coffey had guided Libby Hatch out through a side door what led directly down to the cells in the basement of the building. Mr. Darrow gave her some words of encouragement on her way out, and she did her very best to look humble and grateful; but in her eyes, again, was that flirtatious, seductive glitter what she seemed unable to keep from flashing at men she’d only just met. After she’d gone, Mr. Darrow began to talk with Mr. Maxon, a conversation what Mr. Picton interrupted by marching himself straight over to their table and loudly declaring, “Well, Maxon! So you’ve got yourself some help. I’m not sure how I’d take that if I were you, though I suppose when the assistance comes from a man as thoroughly acquainted with as many areas of the law as Mr. Darrow, you can’t object!” He thrust out his hand. “Mr. Darrow, my name’s Picton.”
“Yes, I know,” Mr. Darrow answered, shaking Mr. Picton’s hand with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm and eyeing him in a way what was more than a little condescending. “You see, I’ve heard about you, too, Mr. Picton, though I’ve got to say that my information came through slightly more”-he cast an eye over at Marcus-“straightforward channels.”
“Well, great men do as they will, lesser men do as they must,” Mr. Picton answered lightly. “Where has Vanderbilt got you staying, Darrow? Somewhere comfortable, I trust-not that Ballston has many luxuries to offer. But perhaps you’ll let me provide you with the odd meal at my house, if you find you need it.”
At the mention of Mr. Vanderbilt, Mr. Darrow looked at Mr. Picton in a way what went past condescension toward outright annoyance. “I will hand it to you, Mr. Picton, there don’t seem to be many aspects of this situation that’ve escaped your attention. Or does all of Ballston Spa know the details of Mrs. Hunter’s arrangements for her defense?”
“Oh, good God, no!” Mr. Picton answered with a laugh. “And I wouldn’t tell them if I were you. Judge Brown’s attitude toward the citizens of our downstate metropolis is, I assure you, quite typical of the residents of this county. But you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone-wouldn’t be sporting, would it?”
It was pretty easy to see that Mr. Picton was doing his best to irritate Mr. Darrow, and that he was succeeding. “I’m not sure ‘sporting’ is a word I’d care to use in connection with a case as tragic as this one,” Mr. Darrow mumbled back. “And I’m afraid I won’t be able to take you up on your offer, as I’ll be staying at the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga. We’ll be organizing our efforts from there.”
Mr. Picton frowned at that one. “Hmm,” he noised. “Well, I wouldn’t let that bit get out, either-people in Ballston don’t have much more use for Saratoga than they do for New York. They figure it’s just a playground for rich strangers and their hired hands.” Mr. Darrow’s eyes went wide with shock at that slap, but Mr. Picton just kept chattering away. “I hope you don’t mind my being so free with advice, but I really do want to make sure that we keep the field as level as possible. Well, good-bye, Maxon-best of luck. And Darrow, if you change your mind about that meal, you will let me know, won’t you?”
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.