JACK
Jack bangs on Professor Girardin’sdoor, loudly and for several minutes, until Girardin’s house servant, Ivy, finally answers it. In her arms she carries the Girardins’ new baby, Mary Anne, who is squawking so loudly Jack has to shout to be heard over her. “Where’s Professor Girardin?”
Ivy moves the baby to her shoulder and pats her back, which does nothing to quiet her. “He can’t see you right now, Mister Jack.”
Jack absolutely must talk to Girardin. His professor knows enough of the world, not to mention the theater company, that if Jack tells him everything, he will know what to do. “It’s important,” he pleads.
“It ain’t a good time,” Ivy says and begins to close the door on him, but Jack sticks his foot in the doorjamb and gives the door a little push.
“Where is everybody?” he asks.
“You are not hearing me,” says Ivy. “No one can see you.”
All of a sudden, Jack begins to panic. Could something have happened to Girardin? “He made it out of the theater, did he not? He’s alive?”
“He made it out,” Ivy says. “But alive might be putting too fine a point on it.”
Just then, a deafening crash comes from the upstairs study, and Jack takes the opportunity to dart past Ivy and up the stairs to the second floor.
“Mister Jack! Get back down here. He don’t want to see you right now, not even a tiny little bit.”
Of course Professor Girardin will see him! He’s never once sent him away.
The door to the study is closed, but sitting in front of it is the Girardins’ four-year-old daughter, Adelaide, who stands when she sees Jack coming. “Hello, Addy,” he says as calmly as he can, then tries the door handle. It’s locked.
He taps on the door lightly.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” comes the familiar tenor of his beloved teacher’s voice.
“Professor Girardin,” he says, leaning his forehead against the thick door. “It’s me.”
“Jack?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go away.”
The curt response surprises Jack. Should Girardin not be relieved to find that he, too, is alive?
Ivy has caught up to Jack, baby in tow, and she grabs him by the back of the shirt collar, then apologizes to Girardin through the door. “Sorry, sir. I told him not to come up.”
“Get him out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” says Ivy, shooting Jack as sour a look as there ever was.
Jack had hoped that Girardin might be able to advise him as to what to do about Placide and Green and this whole business with the inquest, but now all he wants to do is set eyes on the man—make sure he is in one piece. “You were there. Are you all right?”
Through the door, Jack can hear a low chuckle that turns into something closer to a groan and then finally a wail.
“You need to go,” hisses Ivy.
From behind the door, there is another loud crash, and this time Jack can make out the shattering of glass.
The noise has scared both girls. Mary Anne begins to scream once more, and when Jack looks down at Addy, she is standing in a puddle of piss as big as a hoop.
“What are we going to do with you, Miss Adelaide?” says Ivy as she takes the child’s hand and leads her down the hall toward the nursery. When Ivy is about to round the corner, she turns her head and shoots Jack a look that says,Get.
Jack tries to think of what he can say that will convince Girardin to unlock the door. “I was backstage,” he says tentatively, “where the fire started.”
