“Oh, I completely agree with you now,”Mr. Picton answered, eating his food in quick little movements, like an animal or a bird. “But then, as I say, I hadn’t really been exposed to the concept. The only thing I thought might prove or disprove Mrs. Hatch’s claim was the apprehension of the mysterious Negro, and I unofficially pressed that search as hard and for as long as I could. But after a time, the district attorney ordered me to give up the hunt, and forget the affair. Now, however, I can see that the few facts I did assemble about Mrs. Hatch during that brief time may be relevant, somehow.”
“Very much so,” the Doctor answered. “Detective Sergeant?”
Lucius already had his small pad out. “Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
“Oh. And Mr. Picton”-the Doctor paused to take a sip of his wine-“is there a store in town where we might purchase a chalkboard?”
“A chalkboard?” Mr. Picton repeated. “How large?”
“As large as possible. And as soon as possible.”
Mr. Picton thought the matter over. “No… I can’t think…” Then his face brightened. “Wait a minute. Mrs. Hastings!” The housekeeper appeared almost immediately. “Mrs. Hastings, would you mind telephoning over to the high school? Tell Mr. Quinn that I’d like to borrow one of his largest chalkboards.”
“A chalkboard?”Mrs. Hastings repeated, moving around the table to refill the wineglasses. “What in heaven’s name would your honor want with a chalkboard? And where would we put such a thing?”
“Mrs. Hastings, please, the matter is very urgent,” Mr. Picton said. “And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m an assistant district attorney at home, not a judge in a courtroom-you really don’t need to address me as ‘your honor.’ ”
“Hmm!” Mrs. Hastings grunted, turning and making for the kitchen again. “As if that fool jury would’ve convicted those boys without your driving them to it!” She pounded her way back through the swinging door.
Our host smiled in his nervous, quick way, tugging at his beard and then his hair. “I think we can find something that will suit your needs, Doctor… And so! We return to the facts of Libby Hatch’s background. Or at least, to what bits and pieces I eventually assembled. Libby Fraser, as I say, was her name when she arrived here. She tried to get all sorts of employment in town, but nothing worked out-she was too headstrong to follow the rules of conduct at the telephone exchange, expressed too many opinions about customers’ tastes to hold a sales position in the ladies’ clothing department of Mosher’s store, and had no real education of any kind, which narrowed her remaining choices down to various domestic positions. Yet she seemed to find that work more objectionable than anything else-she took and lost three positions as a maid in as many months.”
“And yet Vanderbilt had only high praise for her,” Mr. Moore said.
“Yes, I noted that in your last telegram, John,” Mr. Picton replied. “It’s curious. She may have been putting on an act, or she may simply have let the less aggressive side of her nature take over, for a time. After all, most people who knew the woman in her early Ballston days didn’t think she was a wicked person, really-just entirely too determined to do and have things her own way. Everyone expected that those qualities would be knocked out of her, though, when she accepted a post as housekeeper to old Daniel Hatch. He was the local miser-most of these villages have a character like him. Lived in a big, ramshackle house outside town, alone, except for his servants. Dressed in rags, never bathed-and was rumored to have cash stuffed and sewn into every wall and cushion in his place. As mean as a snake, too, and went through housekeepers as if he were keeping score. But Libby took him on-and the shocks just kept coming, for the next several years.”
“Shocks?” the Doctor asked.
“Indeed, Dr. Kreizler. Shocks! Within a few months the old miser and his housekeeper were engaged to be married. The wedding followed a few weeks later. That in itself should not, perhaps, have come as such a surprise-even though she had just turned thirty, Libby Fraser was a youthful, handsome woman. Lovely, in some ways, despite her impulsive manner. And Hatch, though a shriveled old goat, did have a great deal of money. But when a child followed, just nine months after the marriage… Well, Hatch was seventy-three at the time. And when that first daughter was followed within thirty months by two sons-as you can imagine, it set tongues wagging all over town. Some saw the hand of God in it, and some the work of the Devil. And then there were those few of us who chose to look a little closer to home in trying to determine if Libby Hatch had evil intentions.”
“Evil intentions?” the Doctor repeated, his eyebrows arching a bit.
Mr. Picton laughed and then pushed away from the table, having eaten only half the food what was on his plate. “Oh, dear,” he said, getting up and checking his watch again as he took his pipe out of his jacket pocket. “That’s right, you object to that word, don’t you, Dr. Kreizler?”
The Doctor shrugged. “I don’t know that I object to it,” he said. “I simply find it an ambiguous concept-one that I’ve never had a great deal of use for.”
“Because you feel it contradicts your theory of context,” Mr. Picton answered with a nod, as he began to pace around the table, chewing on his pipe. “But it may surprise you to learn that I disagree with you on that score, Doctor.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed! I accept your proposition that a human being’s actions cannot be fully understood until one has studied the context of his or her entire life. But what if that context has produced a person who is, quite simply, evil? Wicked, pernicious, threatening-to use just a few of Mr. Webster’s definitions.”
“Well,” the Doctor answered, “I’m not at all sure that-”
“I’m not making a mere academic point, Dr. Kreizler-believe me, it will be crucial, if we ever get our day in court!” Stopping to study each of our plates, his head snapping around on his neck like a scared rodent’s, Mr. Picton asked, “Everyone finished eating? Mind if I smoke? No? Good!” He lit a match against his pants and then drew on his pipe in that quick, violent sort of way. “As I was saying-I know that what you seek are explanations for criminal behavior, Doctor, and not excuses for it. And as I say, I admire your quest. But in a case such as this, and a town such as this, we must be especially careful to frame our explanations so that they do not cause either the populace or the jury to view her sympathetically. Because believe me, they will already be inclined to do so, given what will surely be their reluctance to accept our charges against her. Any psychological explanations must only underline the idea that her nature is evil.”
“You seem quite certain that evil does exist, Mr. Picton,” the Doctor said.
“In this case? I have no doubt of it! And when I show you certain things-well, I think that you will believe it, too.” Taking out his watch and checking the time yet again, even though no more than a few minutes had passed since the last time he had, Mr. Picton nodded in satisfaction. “Well! We’ll need to hurry! No time for dessert, I fear-sweets for you later, Master Taggert, along with a lesson on the banister!” In a quick move, he pulled my chair out from the table, and then went around to do the same thing-though more gently-for Miss Howard. Holding one arm toward the door, he looked to the others. “We’ll walk up to the court house, and after that drive out to the eastern outskirts of town.” His eyes came to rest on the head of the table. “And there, Dr. Kreizler, you will see and hear some surprising things. About how a lone woman can cast first a sinister and then a sympathetic spell over an entire town. And when you’ve heard and seen the details-not to mention the effects-of her technique and her actions, I daresay you may change your opinions concerning the existence of evil.”