AN EXPERIMENT IN CHEMISTRY.
“Florine!” said the Baroness Latour, as she entered her rooms after
dining with Nick Carter. “I am going to do a little chemistry work in
the bathroom. Of course, I am not at home to anybody. Some of those
people about the hotel are disposed to be friendly, but I can’t be
bothered with them to-night.”
“Very well,” returned Florine. “Shall I help you change?”
“Yes.”
They retired to the baroness’ bedroom, and in ten minutes the baroness
came forth in a neat gingham gown. Over this she wore an apron of the
same material, but of darker pattern, that covered her completely.
Florine knew just what to do for the experiments her employer was about
to make.
From two large trunks which stood in her own room she took a small
electric stove, crucibles, retorts, and similar articles. Also a glass
table, which folded when packed away, but could be set up quite firmly
in a few minutes. It was the kind of table that is often used by
experimenting chemists.
“That will do,” the baroness told her then. “You can stay out here, in
my sitting room. Remember that no one is to be allowed to come in until
I tell you.”
She shut herself in the bathroom, the ground-glass window of which was
open a little at the top, and placed a crucible, containing some
colorless liquid, on the electric stove.
She had connected the stove by wires to one of the electric fixtures,
after removing the bulb, and thus got all the power she required.
Soon there came a slight hissing from the crucible.
She darted over to it, and having put on a pair of asbestos gloves,
lifted the crucible to the glass table.
Next, she adjusted an oxygen mask with a glass front, and, taking off
the asbestos gloves, replaced them with others of rubber. She knew well
the necessity of taking every precaution when experimenting with
dangerous elements.
Taking a small bottle from a cabinet, which had been one of the articles
brought in by Florine, she poured half of the liquid in it into the
crucible.
A violent agitation of the contents of the crucible caused her to leap
back hastily. It was evidently caused by mixing the two substances too
abruptly.
Soon the disturbance in the crucible subsided. Then the baroness poured
the remainder of the stuff into the crucible, leaving the bottle--it was
really only a vial--absolutely empty.
There was no further bubbling, but the mixture in the crucible, which
had been a dull blue, grew lighter and lighter in color, until it was a
very pale green, which in turn resolved itself into a sickly yellow.
As the last tinge of green disappeared, the baroness took another vial
from the cabinet. This vial was filled with a liquid that looked like
water.
She emptied it all into the crucible.
The liquid immediately took on a rich amber hue. As it did so, she
hastily reached for a glass cover, with a small, funnellike hole in the
top.
Over this hole she fitted a rubber tube, forcing the other end of the
tube tightly into a long, narrow bottle.
Hardly had she secured the tube and lifted the bottle, when a heavy
vapor arose inside the crucible, easily visible through the glass top.
The light vapor went swiftly through the tube, and the long glass bottle
could be seen filling.
In five minutes the amber fluid had entirely disappeared from the
crucible, while the long bottle was full of vapor.
“This is well,” muttered the baroness, as she watched the experiment
with intent eyes. “Everything is working out all right. Now for the next
stage.”
Skillfully, she withdrew the tube from the bottle, and in its place
tightly inserted a stopper made of india rubber. The mixture she had
prepared with such care would have eaten through a cork in a few
minutes.
Having progressed thus far, the baroness carefully placed the
glass-tubelike bottle in a steel case, padded inside, which had been
specially made for it.
Screwing on the cap firmly, she laid the case on the glass table, and
stood thoughtfully regarding it for several seconds.
“I’ll have to try its strength,” she decided, half aloud. “This is the
dangerous part of the experiment.”
She brought forward a large bottle, on which was a bulb and spraying
contrivance carefully fitted to it.
The ever-useful Florine had seen that the bottle was ready with the
other paraphernalia her employer would want. Florine knew nearly as much
about it all as the baroness herself.
The baroness carefully sprayed the air of the bathroom, after closing
the window at the top. She wanted no outside atmosphere to interfere
with the test she was about to make.
Now, for the first time, she removed the strange-looking mask she had
worn throughout her operations. It protected her lungs entirely from the
dangerous gases. There was always the possibility that they might
escape, in spite of all her care with the vessels she used.
As she took off the mask, leaving her mouth exposed, her eyes dropped
heavily and her head swam.
She stumbled slightly as she made her way to the ground-glass window and
pulled down the upper sash.
The current of air revived her at once.
She stood there for a few moments inhaling the pure sea atmosphere
luxuriously.
“This shows it is a success,” she murmured. “I was so careful that
hardly a whiff of the gas could escape. Yet, even after spraying the
room as I did, it almost overcame me. It is better than the other stuff
I used, I am sure. I’ll put this to the proof to-night, if I get a
chance--and I think I shall.”
Opening the window wider, she stood there, ruminating, a curious smile
on her beautiful young face.
“Nicholas Carter! As if it would be possible for me not to know him
because he chooses to call himself Colonel Pearson and assumes an
indolent manner that is not his own at all! And I have been playing golf
and dining with him! Well, it is all in the game! He says himself he
does not know how our next game is to come out. We shall see.”
She went out of the bathroom and told Florine to put everything away.
This order was obeyed so thoroughly and swiftly, that in about five
minutes nothing was to be seen in the bathroom to suggest the experiment
just carried on.
The open window had allowed the last breath of the noxious vapor to
escape, and none of the paraphernalia was in sight.
The glass experimenting table had been folded up and put away, and the
electric stove, crucible, and retorts had gone with it, each being
packed away into its own particular recess in the trunks.
Only the steel case--tubelike, as was the glass bottle of deadly vapor
inside--was placed in a black leather bag, which snapped shut with a
patent spring lock.
This bag the baroness put into another trunk with her own hands. She
would not trust even Florine to do anything with the bottle in its steel
case.
For two hours she sat in the darkness, peering out to sea, where the
lights of the yacht could be seen blinking uncertainly.
She did not talk to her maid, although Florine was in the room, and,
although quite quiet, was wide awake.
It seemed as if there must be something more than the ordinary relations
of mistress and maid between them, for Florine made no complaint of the
long vigil. Neither did the baroness take any notice of her, as she
might have done if there had been no mutual understanding.
“Lock the door after me when I go out, Florine,” were the words with
which the Baroness Latour at last broke the silence. “And be ready to
let me in quickly when I return.”
“Very well.”
Florine made this response in a low, colorless voice.
There was no surprise at the baroness going secretly from her rooms at
midnight, nor at her giving these orders about the door.
It seemed as if she knew what her employer had in hand, and was in
thorough accord with the proceedings.
The baroness had taken off the gingham gown she had worn in the
makeshift laboratory, and had replaced it with a house dress of costly
material, but which was made up rather plainly.
Over this gown she slipped a voluminous black cloak. Then she went over
to the trunk in which she had placed the black bag, and drew the bag
forth.
“The door is locked, Florine?” she asked, without turning her head.
“Yes, my lady!” answered the maid, with a touch of mockery as she used
this form of address that is so uncommon in America. “I have just
looked, to make sure.”
“Stand by it, in case of accidents,” ordered the baroness.
Without speaking, Florine took her station at the door which led to the
outer corridor, although she knew such a precaution was unnecessary.
The baroness took from the bag the steel case into which she had packed
the glass cylinder containing the powerful vapor she had produced in the
bathroom.
Unscrewing the cap of the case, she drew out the glass cylinder, and,
holding it carefully in her left hand, reached again into the bag with
her right.
This time she brought out a diminutive rubber bulb, attached to a
syringe with a thin, hollow, threaded screw on the bottom.
Carefully she sent the screw through the center of the rubber cork in
the glass cylinder. When this had been accomplished, she concealed the
cylinder in the wide sleeve of her cloak.
“Open the door, Florine! And close it as soon as I am outside.”
“Ready?” asked Florine, as she glided, soft-footed as a cat, to the
door, and stood there with her hand upon the key.
“Yes.”
All this was said in the same low, but distinct tones in which the
baroness and her maid had communicated with each other ever since the
former had come in after dining with Nick Carter.
The door opened silently. The baroness slipped through to the corridor.
The door closed after her.