“Hurry, Dr. Quintland! Wolcott is out of control again!”
Dr. Quintland rushed out of the room. Flix followed at a discreet distance. From the doorway, he observed Abercrombie Wolcott in a frenzied rage. The man was throwing things, hitting the staff, and acting with such energy that he was like a dynamo fueled by the sun.
A beefy orderly grabbed at Wolcott, who spun away with the grace of a gazelle, and ran toward the door. Flix was in his way. Wolcott punched him squarely in the gut and pushed him, throwing Flix to the floor with a thud.
“Are you alright?” the orderly asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. Only my pride is injured, I assure you.”
The staff scrambled after Wolcott. It was an unruly scene of limbs akimbo and curses and shouts, but Wolcott was finally overpowered and thrown to the ground.
“Hurry, Lindstrom, Aimes! Hurry! Hold him! Hold him!” Dr. Quintland ordered.
Wolcott was given a shot. Flix had no idea what was in the syringe, but he was glad the ordeal had ended quickly.
“The poor man doesn’t know what he is doing when he’s like that.”
It was Dr. Quintland.
“But don’t worry. Everything’s under control. He’ll be fine once he sleeps it off. Now, may I turn my attention to you? Are you quite sure that you are uninjured?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Please, don’t say anything about this episode to the others.”
“Oh no. I won’t. You have my word, Doctor.”
“Very well. Please, excuse me. I must attend to the poor man.”
“Of course.”
* * * * *
“Where were you when all this happened, Hadrian?” Phalen asked.
The young man was distraught. He was sitting on a wooden bench in a jail cell, handcuffed to a large metal ring that had been cemented into the floor of the dingy room.
“I told you, sir, I was running an errand for my father. He is the head gardener. I help him inside the greenhouses, as well as work outside on the grounds.”
“Then, we shall have a witness who is able to testify that you came to him on this errand.”
“No, sir,” said the young man.
“No? Why not?”
“Because, I didn’t run the errand.”
“You didn’t run the errand.
“No, sir. I wanted to talk to Zada, um, Alzada.
You see, sir, my pop keeps a pretty tight rein on me. It was my chance, this errand, to get out of his sight. Bertie, the man I work with, agreed to run the errand for me.
I sent word by another mate to tell Zada to meet me back of the barn. We had a special place, you know. We’d meet there, sometimes.
She’s been actin’ cool, lately. I wanted to know for myself if her feelin’ for me had changed. If, you know . . . if there was somebody else her heart had struck upon.”
“So, you didn’t hear the commotion in the boathouse?”
“Boathouse. Why, no sir. Oh, gosh! Oh! Oh! That was where they found her. Johnny told me. The barn’s a good three-quarters of a mile from the boathouse, sir.”
“Did you talk to anyone? See anyone?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t supposed to be there, you see.
I hid in the woods near the barn. It was a special place. Out of sight. Zada knew where to find me. I waited and waited. But, she never came, sir.”
“Did you know your friend was with child?”
“What!” young Jannins said, breaking down in tears.
“She had not told you?”
“No. No, sir. Oh, Zada. She must ‘ve thought I’d shun her, sure. But, I love her, sir. I wudda done right by her. I wudda, I swear! Oh, God! This is terrible. I’ve lost my Zada and a baby!”
“Officer!” Phalen said, “I’m ready.”
The officer unlocked the door.
“You haf’ta believe me, sir. I didn’t kill Zada! I swear to God! I loved her. Oh, Zada! I . . . loved her!”
Phalen left the young man, head in his hands, and the echo of muffled sobs blended with the hollow sounds of his own footsteps.