Matthew Corbett 03 - Mister Slaughter

Matthew tied the horses to a hitching-post, put down the brake and followed Hulzen and Greathouse into the first building, which was the doctors' office and consultation area. Inside, there were two desks, a larger conference table with six chairs, a file cabinet, shelves full of books and on the floor a dark green woven rug. Hulzen closed the front door and motioned them to the table, where there was a quill pen and an inkpot. Another door at the back led to what Matthew had noted on his initial visit was an examination room and a place where drugs or medical instruments were stored.

'The papers,' Hulzen said, and Greathouse broke Lord Cornbury's seal. Within the envelope was a trio of official parchment documents like the ones Matthew had seen every day during his duties as clerk for Magistrate Nathaniel Powers. Greathouse found the document and its copy that each needed four signatures, Hulzen briefly looked them over and then signed and Matthew added his signatures. Greathouse dipped the quill and was delivering his name on the copy as the front door suddenly opened, and when Greathouse's hand involuntarily jumped his signature became a scrawl.

The patient-soon to be prisoner, with the adding of one more name-sauntered into the room, followed by Dr. David Ramsendell and, at a distance, Jacob.

Matthew thought the room had suddenly turned cold.

'Hm!' said the new arrival, with chilly disdain. He was staring at the transfer papers, and specifically at the three names written thereon. 'Signing me over like a common criminal, are you? The shame of it!'

Greathouse looked up into the man's face, his own expression as solid as a gravestone. 'You are a common criminal, Slaughter.'

'Oh, no, sir,' came the reply, with the hint of a smile and a slight, mocking bow. His hands were clasped before him, his wrists bound together with leather cuffs secured by a padlock. 'There is nothing common about me, sir. And I would appreciate that you show me due respect, and from now on refer to me as a refined gentleman ought to: Mister Slaughter.'

No one laughed. No one except Slaughter himself, who looked from Greathouse to Matthew with his pale blue eyes and began a slow, deep laughter in his throat that beat like a funeral bell.

Seven

'I'm glad you can amuse yourself so easily,' said Greathouse, when Slaughter's hollow laughter had ceased.

'I've had a great deal of experience in amusing myself, and in both the Quaker institution and this virtuous haven a great deal of time to think amusing thoughts. I thank you for your regard, Mr.' Slaughter took a step closer to the table, with the obvious intention of reading Greathouse's signatures, but Greathouse quickly picked up both sheets of the transfer papers.

'Sir will do,' Greathouse told him. Slaughter smiled and again gave a brief little bow.

But then, before the tall, slim and bearded Dr. Ramsendell could come forward to take the quill that Greathouse offered, Slaughter swiveled toward Matthew and said in a light and amiable voice, 'Now, you I remember very distinctly. Dr. Ramsendell spoke your name outside my window. Was that just July? It's ' He only had to think a few seconds to bring it up. ' Corbett. Yes?'

Matthew nodded, in spite of himself; there was a compelling note in Slaughter's voice that demanded a response.

'A young dandy then, I recall. Even more of a young dandy now.'

It was true. As was his habit of presenting himself as a New York gentleman, even on a road trip, Matthew wore one of his new suits from Benjamin Owles; it was dark burgundy-red, the same color as its waistcoat. Black velvet trimmed the cuffs and lapels. His white shirt and cravat were crisp and spotless, and he wore his new black boots and a black tricorn.

'Come into some money, I see,' said Slaughter, whose face hung before Matthew's. He winked, and said in what was nearly a whisper, 'Good for you.'

How to describe the indescribable? Matthew wondered. The physical features were easy enough: Slaughter's wide face was a mixture of gentleman and brute. His forehead slightly protruded above the straw-colored mass of eyebrows. His unruly mat of hair was the same color, maybe a hint more of red, with the sides going gray. His thick mustache was more gray than straw, and since Matthew had seen him in July the man had grown a beard that looked like the beards of many other men stitched together: here a portion of dark brown, there a red patch, here a dash of chestnut brown, beneath the fleshy lower lip a touch of silver, and upon the chin a streak of charcoal black.

He was not as large a man as Matthew remembered. He had a big barrel chest and shoulders that swelled his ashen-hued asylum clothing, yes, but his arms and legs appeared to be almost spindly. He was about the same height as Matthew, yet he stood in a crook-backed stance that testified to some malformation of the spine. His hands, however, were instruments worthy of special attention; they were abnormally large, the fingers long and knuckles knotty, the nails black with encrusted grime and grown out jagged and sharp as little blades. It was obvious that Slaughter either refused to bathe or hadn't been offered the grace of soap and water for a long period of time, as his scaly flesh was as gray as his clothes. The smell that wafted from him made Matthew think of something dead moldering in the mud of a filthy swamp.

But for all that, Slaughter had a long, aristocratic nose with a narrow bridge and nostrils that flared ever so elegantly, as if he could not stand the stink of his own skin. His large eyes-pale blue, cold, yet not altogether humorless, with a merry sort of glint that came and went like a red signal lamp seen at a distance-were undeniably intelligent in the quick way they darted about to gather impressions just as Matthew was doing the same.

The part of Slaughter that could not be so easily described, Matthew thought, was a feeling from him of calmness, of utter disregard for whatever might be happening in this room. He didn't seem to care a fig, yet there was something else, too; it was a confidence, perhaps ill-advised under the circumstances, but as strong as his reek. It was a statement of both strength and contempt, and this alone put Matthew's nerves on edge. The first time Matthew had seen this man, he'd thought he was looking into the face of Satan. Now, though Slaughter was obviously more-as Ramsendell had put it on that day in July-cunning than insane, he was after all only a human being of flesh, bone, blood, hair and dirt. Possibly mostly hair and dirt, by the looks of him. The irons had no rusty links. It was going to be a long day, but not unbearable. Depending, of course, upon the direction of the breeze.

'Step aside, please,' said Ramsendell, who waited for Slaughter to obey and then came forward to sign the documents. Hulzen was puffing on his pipe, as if to fill up the room with the pungent fumes of Carolina tobacco, and Jacob stood at the door's threshold watching as intently as anyone could who had a portion of their skull missing.

Ramsendell signed the papers. 'Gentlemen?' He was addressing Greathouse and Matthew. 'I appreciate your assistance in this matter. I'm sure you know that both Curtis and I have given to the Quakers our honorable decree as Christians that our patient ' He paused to correct himself, and set aside the quill. 'Your prisoner,' he went on, 'will be delivered to New York alive and in good health.'

'He doesn't look too healthy as is,' Greathouse answered.

'Just so you gentlemen understand-and I am sure you do, being upright citizens-that we are not in favor of violent solutions, and so if Mr. Slaughter perturbs you on the trip I trust that-'

'Don't worry, we won't kill him.'

'Very reassuring to hear it,' said Slaughter.

Greathouse ignored him, and picked up the third sheet of parchment. 'I'm supposed to read this article of possession. I gather it's a formality.'

'Oh, do read it!' Slaughter's teeth flashed.

'This day July third, the year of our Lord 1702,' Greathouse read, 'Her Majesty's subject Tyranthus Slaughter is charged to be removed from his present arrangement and brought to stand before the Queen's Commission of the Peace, held for the city of London and county of Middlesex at Justice Hall in the Old Bailey, before her Majesty's