"I think I do recall reading about it," Matthew said. He would have gotten those copies of the Gazette from ship's passengers, which meant he'd been reading them at least three months after the fact.
"The doctor recognized Carter's description and approached the Crown's constable. But as I say, Slaughter was with us by then. He was um a little disruptive for the Quakers to handle."
"And you're any better?" Greathouse scoffed. "I would've taken a whip to him every damned day."
"Look how they talk about you here," said Slaughter, to no one in particular. "As if you're part of the wallpaper."
"Exactly why was he at the Quaker institution to begin with?" Matthew asked.
"He," Slaughter spoke up, "was there because he was arrested on the Philadelphia Pike for highway robbery. He determined that he was not suited for confinement in the Quakers' gloomy gaol, thus he-poor, misguided soul-should contrive to wear the costume of a lunatic and bark like a dog, which he began to do before that court of fools. Therefore, he was content to join the academy of the mad for how long was it? Two years, four months and twelve days, if his mathematic skills have not turned to pudding."
"That's not quite all of it," Hulzen said, through his pipesmoke. "He tried to escape the Quaker institution four times, assaulted two other patients and nearly bit off a doctor's thumb."
"He put his hand over my mouth. It was very rude."
"Slaughter didn't attempt anything like that here?" Greathouse asked.
"No," said Ramsendell. "In fact, before anyone had learned about Tod Carter, he was on such good behavior that we gave him work privileges, which he unfortunately repaid by trying to strangle poor Mariah, back at the red barn." There was a road leading to some outbuildings behind the hospital, as Matthew knew from his previous visits. "But he was caught in time, and properly punished."
Greathouse's mouth curved into a sneer. "What did you do to him? Take away his scented soap?"
"No, we put him into solitary confinement until it was determined he could rejoin the others. He'd only been out a few days before you two saw his face at the wi ndow. By then we'd had a visit from the Quakers, who'd received a letter from their doctor in London addressed to me and explaining the situation. After that, he was kept apart."
"He should've been torn apart," was Greathouse's summary.
Matthew regarded Slaughter with a furrowed brow, as more questions were nettling him. "Do you have a wife? Any family?"
"No to both."
"Where were you living before you were arrested?"
"Here and there. Mostly there."
"And you worked where?"
"The road, Mr. Corbett. My partner and I did quite well, living on our wits and the treasure of travelers. God rest William Rattison's soul."
"His accomplice," Hulzen said, "was shot down during their last attempt at robbery. Evidently even the Quakers have their limit of patience, and they planted armed constables on one of the coaches between Philadelphia and New York."
"Tell me," Matthew said, again to Slaughter. "Did you and Rattison kill anyone while you were living on your wits?"
"We did not. Oh, Ratsy and I bumped a head occasionally, when someone grew mouthy. Murder was not the intent; it was the money."
Matthew rubbed his chin. Something still bothered him about all this. "So you elected to enter a madhouse for the rest of your life as opposed to standing before a judge and receiving a sentence of oh a brand on the hand and three years, say? I assume that was because you decided a madhouse would be easier to escape from? And why are you now so eager to leave this place that you don't even bother to deny the charges? I mean, the Quaker doctor could be mistaken."
Slaughter's smile emerged once more, and then slowly faded. The distant expression of his eyes never changed. "The truth," he said, "is that I never lie to men who are not fools."
"You mean you don't lie to men who can't be fooled," said Greathouse.
"I mean what I said. I am going to be taken from this place, no matter what. Put on a ship and sent to England. Walked before the court, identified by witnesses, badgered to point to the graves of three very lovely but very stupid young ladies, prodded into Newgate, and laughed by a slobbering mob up the gallows steps. No matter what. Why should I be less than truthful, and sully my honor before such professionals as yourselves?"
"Or is it," Matthew suggested, "that you fully believe yourself capable of escaping from us on the road? Even from such professionals as ourselves?"
"It is a thought. But, dear sir, never blame the wind for wishing to blow."
Greathouse returned the article of possession and their copy of the transfer document to the envelope. "We'll take him now," he said, rather grimly. "There's a matter of money."
"Oh, isn't there always," was Slaughter's quick comment.
Ramsendell went to one of the desks, opened a drawer and brought out a little cloth bag. "Two pounds, I believe. Count it, if you like."
Matthew could tell Greathouse was sorely tempted to do so when the bag was put into his palm, but the great one's desire to make haste from the asylum clearly won out. "Not necessary. Out," he commanded the prisoner, and motioned toward the door.
When they were outside and walking to the wagon, Slaughter first, followed by Greathouse, then Matthew and the doctors, a cacophony of hooting and hollering came from the windows of the central building, where pallid faces pressed against the bars. Greathouse kept his eyes fixed on Slaughter's back. Suddenly, Jacob was walking right up beside Greathouse and the poor man said hopefully, "Have you come to take me home?"
With a sudden intake of breath, Slaughter turned. His hands still clasped together and bound by the leather cuffs, he took a single step forward that brought him face-to-face with Jacob. Greathouse froze, and behind him Matthew's knees also locked.
"Dear Jacob," said Slaughter in a soft, gentle voice, as the red glint flared in his eyes. "No one is coming to take you home. Not today, not tomorrow, not the next day. You will stay here for the rest of your life, and here you will die. Because, dear Jacob, you have been forgotten, and no one is ever coming to take you home."
Jacob wore a half-smile. He said, "I hear " And then something must have gotten through into his head that was not music, for the smile cracked as surely as his skull must have broken on the fateful day of his accident. His eyes were wide and shocked, as if they remembered the whipsaw coming at him, yet he knew that to see it coming was already a lifetime too late. His mouth opened, the face went slack and as pallid as those that screamed behind the bars. Instantly Dr. Hulzen had come forward to put his hand first on the man's arm, and then his arm around the man's shoulder. Hulzen said close to his ear, "Come, Jacob. Come along, we'll have some tea. All right?" Jacob allowed himself to be pulled away, his expression blank.
Slaughter watched them go, and Matthew saw his chin lift with pride at a job well done.