Jonathan Crane’s testimony. Much of what the thin, bespectacled psychiatrist said was the medical equivalent of boilerplate, filling up air and time without communicating much, but two sentences caught Rachel’s attention. As she listened she twisted a handkerchief in her lap and bit her lip. “In my opinion,” Crane told the court, “Mr, Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as others.” The doctor looked at Victor Zsasz, a bulky man with a completely bald head wearing an orange jumpsuit who sat beside his lawyer at a long table. “Prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation,” Crane concluded. “But he would be a welcome addition to our group at Arkham.” When the hearing was over, Rachel ran down the long, curving marble steps and caught up with Crane in the lobby. “Dr. Crane!” she called breathlessly. Crane stopped by the door to the portico and said, “Yes, Miss Dawes?”
