SANATOXINE.
Mr. Barnes was sitting in his office, looking listlessly over his
morning paper, when his eye suddenly met a headline announcing the
death of Madame Medjora. Instantly his interest was aroused, and he
read the account with avidity until he reached the statement that the
disease of which Madame had died was diphtheria. Then he put his paper
down upon his desk, slapped his hand upon it by way of emphasis, and
ejaculated:
"Foul play, or my name is not Barnes!"
He remained still for a few moments, thinking deeply. Then he resumed
his reading. When he had reached the end, he started up, gave a few
hurried instructions to his assistant, and went out. He visited the
Academy of Medicine and obtained permission to enter the library,
where he occupied himself for a full hour, making a few memoranda from
various books. Next he proceeded in the direction of Villa Medjora,
and arriving there he asked to see Leon Grath.
Leon entered the reception-room in some surprise, and seeing Mr.
Barnes he asked:
"Is your errand of importance? We have death in the house."
"It is in connection with the death of Madame Medjora that I have
called to see you, Mr. Grath. I am a detective!"
The effect of this announcement was electrical. Leon turned deathly
pale, and dropped into a seat, staring speechless at his visitor. Mr.
Barnes also chose to remain silent, until at last Leon stammered
forth:
"Why do you wish to see me?"
"Because I believe that you can throw some light upon this mysterious
subject."
"Mysterious subject? Where is the mystery? The cause of Madame's death
is clearly known!"
"You mean that she died of diphtheria. Yes, that is a fact. But how
did she contract that disease? Is that clearly known? Can you throw
any light upon that phase of the question?"
Leon controlled his agitation with great difficulty. He had thought,
when urged on by that terrible temptation which he had resisted, that
a death such as this would arouse no suspicion. Yet here, while the
corpse was yet in the house, a detective was asking most horribly
suggestive questions. Questions which had haunted him by day and by
night, ever since that visit to the laboratory.
"I am not a physician," at length he murmured. "I am merely a
student."
"Exactly! You are a student in the laboratory of Dr. Medjora. You can
supply the information which I seek. Do you know whether, three days
ago, there was a culture of the bacillus of diphtheria in the Doctor's
laboratory?"
"Why do you ask? What do you suspect?"
Leon was utterly unnerved, and stammered in his utterance. He made a
tremendous effort, in his endeavor to prevent his teeth from
chattering, and barely succeeded. Indeed, his manner was so perturbed
that for an instant Mr. Barnes suspected that he was guilty of some
connection with Madame's death. A second later he guessed the truth,
that Leon's suspicion's were identical with his own.
"What I think," said Mr. Barnes, "is not to the point. My question is
a simple one. Will you reply to it?"
"Well, yes! We did have such a culture tube in the laboratory."
"Did have," said the shrewd detective, quickly. "Then it is not there
now. Where is it?"
"I do not know. I think the Doctor took it away. Of course he used it
in some harmless experiment, or--or--or--or for making slides for the
microscope."
"You mean that you surmise this. All you know is that Doctor Medjora
took the tube out of the laboratory. Am I not right? Now when did that
occur? You saw him take it, did you not?"
Leon stared helplessly at his tormentor for a moment, great beads of
perspiration standing on his brow. Then starting to his feet he
exclaimed:
"I will not answer your questions! I have said too much! You shall not
make me talk any more," and with a mad rush he darted from the room,
and disappeared upstairs.
Mr. Barnes made no effort to arrest his flight. Indeed he sympathized
with the lad, well comprehending the mental torture from which he
suffered. He pondered over the situation awhile, and finally appeared
to have decided upon a plan of action. He took a card from his case,
and wrote upon it these words:
"Mr. Barnes, detective, would like to see Dr. Medjora,
concerning the coincidence of the death of his two wives.
This matter is pressing, and delay useless."
This he placed in an envelope which he took from a desk that stood
open, and then he touched a gong, which summoned a servant.
"Hand this to Dr. Medjora, immediately. I will await a reply here."
Ten minutes elapsed, and then the servant returned, and bidding Mr.
Barnes follow him, led the way to the laboratory. Here Dr. Medjora
received the detective, as though he were a most welcome visitor.
"So, Mr. Barnes," said the Doctor, opening the conversation, "you have
attained your ambition, and are now a full-fledged detective. I have
read something of your achievements, and have watched your progress
with some interest. I congratulate you upon your success."
"Dr. Medjora," said the detective, with much dignity, "the object of
my visit is so serious that I cannot accept flattery. We will proceed
to business, if you please."
"As you choose! Let me see! From your card, I judge that you fancy
that there is some suspicious circumstance about my late wife's death.
You speak of a coincidence which connects hers with that of my first
wife. What is it?"
"Both died of diphtheria," said Mr. Barnes, impressively.
"You are entirely mistaken, sir," said the Doctor, with a touch of
anger. "My first wife, Mabel, died of morphine, self-administered, and
fatal because of other organic disease from which she suffered. She
did not die of diphtheria."
"A physician so testified, and signed a death certificate to that
effect."
"He did, but he was mistaken. Physicians are mortal as other men are,
and as liable to errors of judgment. I repeat, Mabel died of poison."
"Well, we will pass that for a moment. Your last wife died of
diphtheria, and she did not contract that disease legitimately."
"No? You interest me. Pray then how did she contract it?"
"By inoculation with the bacillus of diphtheria, Dr. Medjora, and you
administered this new form of poison, which an autopsy does not
disclose."
"Quite an ingenious theory, Mr. Barnes, and I admire your skill in
evolving it. It shows what an enterprising detective you are. You
think that if you make a discovery of this nature, you will cover
yourself with glory. Only you are wrong. I did not do what you charge.
Why should I wish to kill my wife?"
"Because she had discovered your secret!"
"What secret?"
"That Leon is the child of Mabel Sloane and yourself!"
"Mabel Medjora, you mean," said the Doctor, sternly. "When a woman
marries, she assumes her husband's name."
The Doctor was apparently very jealous of the good name of his first
wife. Mr. Barnes was amazed at this exhibition of feeling. The Doctor
continued, as though soliloquizing:
"So you are the detective that my wife engaged? Strange fatality! Very
strange!" He walked up and down the room a few times, and then
confronted the detective.
"Mr. Barnes," said he, "it is evident that you and I must have a
serious and uninterrupted conversation. Leon may come in here at any
moment. Will you accompany me to a room below, where we will be safe
from intrusion?"
"Certainly!"
Dr. Medjora raised the trap-door, which revealed the secret stairway,
and started down. Mr. Barnes arose to follow him, saying:
"You are taking me to some secret apartment, Doctor. I will go with
you, but this trap must be left open, and I warn you that I am armed."
"You need no weapons, Mr. Barnes. No danger will threaten you. My
purpose in taking you below is entirely different from what you have
in your mind."
At the foot of the stairway he turned aside from the crypt of
AEsculapius, and led the way into the secret chamber in which the
hypnotic suggestion of love had been put into operation. At this time
it appeared simply as an ordinary room, the staging and curtains
having been removed.
"Be seated, Mr. Barnes," said the Doctor, "and listen to me. You are
laboring under a misapprehension, or else you have not told me all
that you know. A most curious suspicion has been aroused in your mind.
Upon what facts is it based?"
"Perhaps it will be best for me to explain. I must again refer to the
fact that your first wife was supposed to have died of diphtheria.
Your second wife falls a victim to the same malady. It is uncommon in
adults. This of itself might be but a coincidence. But when I know
that, on a given day, I revealed to your wife the truth about Leon,
which you had carefully hidden from her for so many years, and when I
subsequently discover that Madame was attacked by this disease on the
very night following her visit to my office, suspicion was
inevitable."
"As you insist upon going back to that old case, let me ask you how
you can suppose that I induced the disease at that time?"
"Just as you have done now. By using the diphtheria bacillus."
"You forget, or you do not know, that the bacillus of diphtheria was
not discovered until Klebs found it in 1883, and the fact was not
known until Loeffler published it in 1884. Now my wife died in 1873."
"True, these scientists made their discoveries at the time which you
name, but I feel certain that you had anticipated them. You are
counted the most skilful man of the day, and I believe that you know
more than has been learned by others."
"Your compliment is a doubtful one. But I will not dispute with you. I
will grant, for the sake of argument, that your suspicion is natural.
You cannot proceed against me merely upon suspicion. At least you
should not do so."
"My suspicion is shared by another, whose mind it has entered by a
different channel."
"Who is this other?"
"Your son!"
"What do you say? Leon suspects that I have committed a crime? This is
terrible! But why? Why, in the name of heaven, should he harbor such a
thought against me?" The Doctor was unusually excited.
"He saw you take the culture tube, containing the bacillus, out of the
laboratory."
"You say Leon saw me take a culture tube from the laboratory?" The
Doctor spoke the words separately, with a pause between each, as
though stung by the thought which they conveyed. Mr. Barnes merely
nodded assent.
"Then the end is at hand!" muttered the Doctor, softly. "All is ready
for the final experiment!" Mr. Barnes did not comprehend the meaning
of what he heard, but, as the Doctor walked about the room, back and
forth, like a caged animal, seemingly oblivious of the fact that he
was not alone, the detective thought it wise to observe him closely
lest he might attack him unawares.
Presently the Doctor stopped before the detective, and thus addressed
him, in calm tones:
"Mr. Barnes, you are shrewd and you are clever. You have guessed a
part of the truth, and I have decided to tell you everything."
"I warn you," said Mr. Barnes, quickly, "that what you say will be
used against you."
"I will take that risk!" The Doctor smiled, and an expression akin to
weariness passed over his countenance. "You have said that, in your
belief, as early as 1873, I knew of the bacillus of diphtheria, and
that I inoculated my wife with it. You are right, but, nevertheless,
you are mistaken when you say that she died from that malady. I must
go further back, and tell you that the main source of my knowledge has
been some very ancient hieroglyphical writings, which recorded what
was known upon the subject by the priests of centuries ago. Much that
is novel to-day, was very well understood in those times. The germ
theory of disease was thoroughly worked out to a point far in advance
of what has yet been accomplished in this era. The study required to
translate and comprehend the cabalistic and hieroglyphical records has
been very great, and it was essential that I should test each step
experimentally. About the time of Mabel's death I had discovered the
germ of diphtheria, but I found that my experiments with the lower
animals were very unsatisfactory, owing to the fact that it does not
affect them and human beings in a precisely similar manner. I
therefore risked inoculating my wife."
"That was a hideous thing to do," ventured Mr. Barnes.
"From your standpoint, perhaps you are right. But I am a unique man,
occupying a unique position in the world. To me alone was it given to
resurrect the buried wisdom of the past. Even if I had known that the
experiment might be attended by the death of my wife, whom I loved
dearer than myself, I still would not have been deterred. Science
transcended everything in my mind. Death must come to us all, and a
few years difference in the time of its arrival is surely immaterial,
and not to be weighed against the progress of scientific research. But
I was confident that the disease, thus transmitted, would not prove
fatal. That is, I was sure that I could effect a cure."
"But it seems that you did not do so. The woman died."
"She died from poison. I carefully attended her during her attack of
diphtheria, until an unlooked-for accident occurred. I became ill
myself. It was not an ailment of any consequence, but I felt that it
would be safer to call in assistance, and I placed the case in the
hands of Dr. Fisher. He afterwards stupidly called in Dr. Meredith.
However, despite their old fogy methods, she made a good rally and was
on the safe side of the crisis, when that hypodermic case was left
temptingly within her reach. I think now that she shammed sleep, in
order to distract my attention from her. Morphine _habitues_ are very
cunning in obtaining their coveted drug. However that may be, I was
suddenly aroused to the fact that there was a movement in the bed, and
turning my head, I saw her pushing the needle of the syringe under her
flesh. I sprang up and hastened to her, but she had made the
injection, and dropped back to the pillows, when I reached her. She
had not withdrawn the needle, and I was in the act of doing that, when
the nurse entered."
"Then you adhere to the story which you told upon the stand?"
"Certainly! It is the truth!"
"But, Doctor," said Mr. Barnes, "you have not, even yet, proven that
she did not die of diphtheria."
"She did not! I tell you it was the morphine that deprived her of
life. I know it! She died of poison! There is no question about that!"
Thus the Doctor, though admitting that he had produced the diphtheria,
persistently asseverated that Mabel had not succumbed to its
influence. Thus is explained his not advancing the theory of
diphtheria as a cause of death, when arranging his defence, at the
trial. To have escaped the gallows in that manner, would have been to
burden his conscience with the murder of the woman whom he loved, for
if she died of diphtheria, while he must have escaped conviction by
the jury, he would know within his own heart that it was his hand that
deprived her of life. Mr. Barnes replied:
"But there is a question in this last case. Madame died of diphtheria,
and since you admit that you can produce it by inoculation, what am I
to believe?"
"I care not what you believe," said the Doctor, sharply, "so long as
you can prove nothing."
"Well, then, since you do not care," said the detective, nettled, "let
me tell you that I believe you deliberately planned to kill your last
wife. What is more, I do not doubt that a jury would adopt my views."
"In that you are utterly mistaken. Were I considering myself alone, I
would permit you to accuse me, feeling perfectly confident that I
would be in no danger."
"You are a bold man!"
"Not at all! Where there is no danger, there can be no special
bravery. Why, my dear Mr. Barnes, you have no case at all against me.
In your own mind you think that there is ample proof, but much of what
you know could not be offered to a jury. You are aware of the fact
that the diphtheria bacillus was known to me prior to my first wife's
death, and so you trace a connection between the two cases. But my
lawyer would merely show that the discovery was made ten years after
Mabel died, and any further allusion to my first trial would be ruled
out. I know enough about law, to know that previous crimes, or
accusations of crime, cannot be cited unless they form a part of a
system, and as your idea of induced diphtheria could not be
substantiated, all of that part of your evidence would be irrelevant."
"That would be a question for the presiding judge to decide."
"If he decide other than as I have stated, we would get a new trial on
appeal. The law is specific, and the point is covered by endless
precedents. Now then, obliged to confine yourself to positive evidence
in the present case, what could you do? You think you could show a
motive, but a motive may exist and not be followed by a crime, and
your motive is weak besides. Next, you declare that I had the
knowledge and the opportunity. I might have both, and still refrain
from a murder. But you say that the tube containing the bacillus was
missing from my laboratory on that very night, and that my son, Leon,
saw me take it. I think that you have formed a rash conclusion on this
point, because I doubt that Leon has told you any such thing. However,
granting that it is true, and even that the boy would so testify, I am
sure that he would admit under cross-examination that it is a common
habit for me to take such tubes to my room to make slides for the
microscope." The detective recalled that Leon had made this same
explanation, and he realized that the Doctor had made a valuable point
in his own defence. Dr. Medjora continued: "We would produce the
slides which I did actually make, and, being warned by you so early,
it would be easy for me to remain in your company until I could send
for an expert to examine the slides, so that at the trial he would be
able to testify, that from the condition of the balsam he could swear
that they had been very recently made. Thus, by admitting all of the
damaging parts of your evidence, and then explaining them so that they
become consistent with the hypothesis of innocence, we would feel
safe. You would still be at the very beginning of your case. It would
devolve upon you to show that I not only made the slides, but that I
likewise used a part of the contents of that tube to inoculate my
wife. You would need to show how such an act were possible. You have
no witness who saw me commit the deed which you charge, have you?"
"No," said Mr. Barnes, reluctantly. "But I still think that the
circumstantial evidence is sufficient." Mr. Barnes felt sure that this
man was guilty, and however skilfully his defence was planned he was
reluctant to yield.
"It is sufficient!" said Dr. Medjora, "Not to convict me at a trial by
jury, but to raise a doubt of my innocence in the minds of those,
whose good will I am determined not to forfeit. Therefore I will not
submit to a trial."
"How will you escape? I intend to arrest you!"
"You intend to arrest me, but your intention will not be carried into
effect. I mean to place myself beyond the reach of the law."
"You do not contemplate suicide?" asked Mr. Barnes, alarmed.
"Not at all! There is no object in such an act, and good reason why I
should not resort to it. You do not comprehend my position, and I must
explain it to you, because I must depend upon you for assistance."
"You expect assistance from me?" Mr. Barnes was puzzled.
"Certainly, and you will grant it. I must tell you that for many years
I have planned a scheme which is now on the verge of accomplishment. I
wish my son Leon to marry Agnes Dudley. I had some difficulty to
obtain my friend's consent, but since he has discovered that the young
people love one another, he has acquiesced. Only to-day he told me
this. But if he was reluctant, when Leon's parentage was unknown, he
would be more so, were he to learn that I am his father."
"But I thought that Judge Dudley was your warm friend?"
"He is! But even strong friendships have a limitation, beyond which
they must not be tried. Judge Dudley would strenuously argue that I am
innocent of the old charge. His friendship for me, and his pride at
winning his first great case, would prompt him thus. But were he to
hear your suspicions, like you, he would believe that both women died
similarly, and he would not only be apt to accept your theory of
Madame's death, but he might also come to think that I had murdered
Mabel also."
"So! You admit there is some potency in my charge, after all."
"You would fail with a jury, but you would convince Judge Dudley, and
that would forever prevent him from consenting to this marriage. He
would move heaven and earth to stop his daughter from marrying the son
of one whom he believed to be a murderer. Thus you see the disaster
that threatens, if you pursue your course. You would blast the lives
of two people, who love one another."
"Duty cannot consider sentiment!" said Mr. Barnes, though in his heart
he was already sorry that he suspected, and that he had followed up
his suspicion.
"Leon now troubles himself because he does not known who his father
is," continued the Doctor, without noticing what Mr. Barnes had said.
"It would be far worse for him to know his father, and then believe
him to be a murderer, and even that he had himself supplied a clue
against him. It would be too horrible! Agnes too would suffer. She
might abandon her love, from a sense of duty to her father, but her
heart would be broken, and all the bright promises of her youth
crushed. No! No! It must not, it shall not be!" The Doctor became
excited towards the end, and Mr. Barnes was startled at his manner.
"What will you do?" he asked, feeling constrained to say something.
"Place myself beyond the reach of the law, as I said before. But not
by suicide, as you suggested. Do you not see that my only reason for
avoiding the trial which would follow your accusation is, that I do
not wish the knowledge to reach those three persons, in whose welfare
my whole heart is centred? Suicide would be a confession of guilt. It
is the hackneyed refuge of the detected criminal who lacks brains, and
of the story writer, who, having made his villain an interesting
character, spares the feelings of his readers by not sending him to
prison, or to the gallows. Nor do I contemplate flight, because the
effect would be the same."
"Then how do you purpose evading the law?" Mr. Barnes was intensely
interested, and curious to know the plans of this singularly
resourceful man.
"The law cannot reach the insane, I believe," said the Doctor, calmly.
"You surely do not suppose that you can deceive the experts by
shamming madness?" asked Mr. Barnes, contemptuously. "We are too
advanced in science, in these days, to be baffled long by
malingerers."
"Observe me, and you will learn my purpose!"
Dr. Medjora went to a closet and returned with a hammer, a large
staple, and a long chain. Mr. Barnes watched him closely, with no
suspicion of what was to follow. The Doctor stopped at a point
immediately opposite to the door, and stooping, firmly fastened the
chain to the floor by nailing it down with the large staple, which was
long enough to reach the beam under the boarding. He then stood up
again. Taking a hypodermic syringe from his pocket, and also a small
phial, he carefully filled the barrel, and was about to inject the
fluid into his arm, when Mr. Barnes ejaculated:
"I thought that you said you would not commit suicide?"
"I have no such intention. In one moment I will explain my purpose to
you. Meanwhile watch me!"
With dexterous skill he plunged the point into one of the larger
veins, and discharged the fluid carefully, holding a finger over the
wound as he withdrew the needle to prevent any escape. If Mr. Barnes
was astonished by this, he was more surprised at what followed. The
Doctor stooped and picked up the ends of the chain, which the
detective now observed terminated in handcuffs. These the Doctor
slipped over his wrists, and snapping together the spring locks, thus
virtually imprisoned himself.
"What does this mean?" said Mr. Barnes. "I do not understand."
"Of course not," said the Doctor. "You are accustomed to deal with
brainless criminals. Despite your boast, science is beyond you. I will
explain: My object in thus chaining myself to the floor, is to insure
your safety."
"My safety?"
"Yes! In less than half an hour I will be a raving maniac. If not
restrained, I might do you an injury."
"Impossible!" cried the detective, incredulous.
"You will see! I ask in exchange for my thoughtfulness in preventing
myself from harming you, that when I shall have become irresponsible,
you will suggest the idea that I felt this attack of insanity coming
on, and took these precautions for the sake of others. Will you do
this?"
"Certainly! If----" Mr. Barnes stopped, confused by his thoughts.
"There is no if about this. I do not deal in chances. I have never yet
made an error, and you will see that my prediction will be fulfilled.
But time, precious time, is passing, and I have much to say before I
lose my reason. You have heard of hydrophobia, have you not? And of
Pasteur's experiments?"
"Yes! I have read what the newspapers have said."
"The investigators in this field have discovered that the virus of
this disease is located in the brain, spinal marrow, and nerves of
infected animals. They have also extracted the virus, and by
inoculation produced hydrophobia in other animals. Along similar lines
I have extensively experimented in connection with insanity. In the
first place, I argued that insanity is due to a specific poison, a
toxalbumen, and that this poison is a result of parasitical action. If
I could isolate that poison, and the germ which causes it, I would
understand the etiology of insanity. The discovery of an antidote
would then be an almost assured consequence. To be able to cure
insanity, would be a proud distinction for the discoverer of the
method. I am convinced that I have the secret almost within my grasp.
The preparation which I have injected into my veins is a formula of my
own. I have named it 'Sanatoxine'!"
"Sanatoxine?"
"Yes! The word means 'poison to sanity,' and my Sanatoxine will
produce insanity, unless I have made some mistake, which is unlikely.
Hereafter, when the proper antitoxine shall have been discovered, it
will be a simple matter to cure insanity. The patient will be given a
proper dose of Sanatoxine, to convert his malady into a curable form
of the disease, and then the antitoxine will counteract the poison
which has deprived him of the use of his reasoning faculties."
"If you have made such a wonderful discovery," said the detective,
"then you should not destroy your own reason, thereby depriving the
world of the benefits of your knowledge. In this you commit a greater
crime than that with which you stand charged!"
"Do I? Suicide is a crime within the definitions of the Penal Code,
but there has been no enactment against self-inflicted insanity. But I
must tell you how Sanatoxine is produced, and then explain how
posterity may yet benefit by my discovery. One of the curable forms of
insanity is delirium tremens. The worst of these cases are truly
maniacal neuroses. I have seen a man die of such an attack, and a few
minutes later I removed his brain and spinal marrow. These I
macerated, and from them I extracted the virus which is the cause of
the malady. I have inoculated the lower animals with it, and I have
seen results which satisfy me that my deductions are correct. This
cannot be absolutely known, however, until my Sanatoxine is tried on
human beings. That important step in the advancement of science has
just been made. If I become insane, my theory will have ample proof.
For the future, Leon must complete my work. Among my papers he will
find my views and formulas. It is inevitable that he will solve the
riddle."
"But you sacrifice yourself, merely to test an experiment? You
introduce into your own system a preparation abstracted from such a
horrible source! It is fearful to think about!"
"Let me see," said the Doctor, consulting his watch. "Ten minutes have
passed, and there is scarcely a rise of temperature. Singular!" He
mused over the problem for a moment, and a shade of anxiety passed
across his features, as he murmured, "What if I have made a mistake?
No! No! It is impossible! Utterly impossible!" Reassured he turned
again to Mr. Barnes:
"I mentioned awhile ago that I should need your assistance. You have
said that I make a sacrifice. From the ordinary standpoint that is
true, though not from my own. Suicide would have brought me death, an
experience for which I yearn, with a longing based upon scientific
curiosity, which perhaps you cannot comprehend. But I am equally
desirous of knowing by personal experience what it means to be insane.
Death will come to me in time, therefore I need not interfere, but
insanity might never have been my lot, had I not pursued the course
which I have followed. To-morrow you will be obliged to explain what
you have witnessed, and the favor I ask is this. Do not render my
self-sacrifice useless, by relating to others those horrible
suspicions, the consequences of which I am so desirous of escaping. Be
as merciful as the law, and keep silent that the innocent may not
suffer. May I count upon you to do this?"
"Dr. Medjora, I cannot yet believe that you will succeed in this
horrible experiment; but if you do, of course I would not harm others
by arousing useless suspicions. If you escape from the law, you need
have no fear of what I should do."
"I thank you from the bottom of my heart." Again he consulted his
watch. "Twenty minutes gone, and still no alteration. What if I should
fail? No! No! Failure is impossible! Mr. Barnes, another matter. My
son is my natural heir, but I do not wish him to know it. Even without
your story, Judge Dudley might hesitate to let Leon marry his
daughter, if he knows him to be son of mine. There may be a doubt
against me lurking in some corner of his brain, which would be
vivified if he learned my secret. You will not reveal it?"
"No!"
"I thank you. The boy will not suffer. I have left a will in his
favor, and there is another paper making him the guardian of my
estates should I lose my reason. You see I have contemplated my
experiment for a long time, and all my preparations are complete. The
Judge has arranged to give Leon my name legally. So all will be well!
All will be well! All my plans successful! I lose my reason without
complaint! But, time is passing, and my reason remains! A horrible
thought comes over me! I have made a mistake! By all the eternal
torments, I have made a mistake, and here I am chained up so that it
is impossible for me to rectify the error! They say I am an egotist,
yet I have so little remembered my own mental superiority, that I
actually have thought that a dose of Sanatoxine which would unseat the
reason of an ordinary man, would effect me. Fool! Fool! Fool! How
could I forget that I, Emanuel Medjora, the Wizard, am not as other
men? How can my reason be destroyed by so small a dose as that which I
have taken? But stop! There may be yet one chance! There may be more
in the phial! Where is it?" His excitement increased as he gave vent
to his thoughts aloud, as though Mr. Barnes were not present. Now he
looked eagerly about, and at last saw the bottle at some distance from
him on the floor. Mr. Barnes also saw it, and stepped forward to pick
it up. Instantly the Doctor sprang towards him, grasping the hammer
which had lain within his reach.
"Touch that phial at your peril!" he screamed. "I will brain you as
mercilessly as I would a rat! That phial is mine! Its contents are
mine! Valuable only to me and to science! My experiment must succeed!
It must! It must! It shall!"
Glaring at Mr. Barnes, who stood back awed by his threatening
attitude, the Doctor moved towards the bottle, but, as he stooped to
reach for it, the chains tightened and impeded his progress.
"The chains! I had forgotten the chains! Ha! I have never forgotten
before! Perhaps my reason is yielding already! No! No! I feel that I
have full sway over all my faculties! I must have that phial!"
He stooped to his knees, and stretched and writhed and twisted, in his
efforts to reach the bottle. But ever it was just beyond his grasp.
"I will have it! I will! I will!" he muttered, gritting his teeth with
such force that one of them was broken. But he took no heed of the
accident. Down on his back he turned, and, by a wriggling motion, soon
lay extended at full length, his feet reaching as far as the chains
about the wrists permitted, his arms being stretched backward beyond
his shoulders. He could now reach the bottle with his feet, but it was
impossible for him to see it, the position of his arms rendering it
very difficult for him to hold his head and shoulders high enough from
the floor, so that his own body would not impede his vision. However,
he did accomplish his purpose, and Mr. Barnes was amazed to see him at
last clutch the phial with his two feet. Then began a series of
contortions which were painful to see. With the utmost care the Doctor
drew his feet slowly up, dragging the phial nearer and nearer,
meanwhile crying out in a sort of hysteria:
"It is mine! I will have it! I will succeed! The Wizard never failed!
Never! Never! No! No! Never! Never!"
Once, as he moved his feet, the phial slipped from them and rolled
away again.
"Come back!" he shrieked. "Come back! Stop! Stop!" he cried, as though
addressing a living thing. It ceased to roll, and with a cry of joy he
found that he could still reach it. Again he slowly worked it towards
him. Inch by inch he managed the coveted phial, until at last he
assumed another position. Springing up from the floor he reached
backward with one foot and touched it.
"Now it is mine! Mine! Mine!" His voice was shrill, and there was a
passionate tone of exultation that smote Mr. Barnes to the heart. It
was terrible to stand by and see the desperate effort which this man
made to accomplish that from which all men shrink in horror. Slowly
the Doctor proceeded with his task, until at last he was able to reach
the phial with his hands. Swiftly stooping, as a hawk descends upon
its prey, he grasped the little bottle.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! I have it! It is mine! The Wizard never fails!"
His laugh of joy had scarcely died away, before he uttered a most
terrific shriek, and threw the phial from him, crying:
"Empty! Great God! It is empty!"
He stood silent and motionless for a moment. Then his eyes turned in
the direction of Mr. Barnes, and he glared at him in such a way that
the detective felt uncomfortable. Suddenly he burst forth with a
tirade of abusive language.
"You! You are the cause of all this! You are the prying miscreant that
has made all my trouble! I will have your life! I will drag you into
the crypt of my great ancestor, and tear out your heart on the stone
of sacrifice that still exists in there!"
He dashed forward with such force that the chains, reaching their
limit suddenly, jerked him back so violently that he fell. As he did
so his hand chanced to touch the hammer, which he had laid aside while
trying to secure the bottle. With a shriek of joy that made Mr. Barnes
shiver, he sprang up, holding the hammer aloft.
"I am chained! Chained! But you shall not escape! Take that!"
Swiftly he hurled the hammer, but Mr. Barnes, suspecting his purpose,
dropped to his knees, and the missile went harmlessly over his head.
"Balked! Balked! I have failed! But I am the Wizard and I will
succeed! Ha! Ha! Ha!" His laugh now filled the room. "You wonder how!
I am chained and you think that you are safe! Ha! Ha! Ha! You are a
fool! You do not know me! I am Emanuel Medjora! I am powerful. I will
rend these chains, and then your life shall pay!"
He turned, and wrapping the chains around his two arms, he braced his
feet against the floor, and tugged with all his might.
He pulled, and swayed from side to side. He savagely jerked the
chains, and then again he grasped one with both hands, but his efforts
appeared to be in vain. But so much power did he display, that, as his
back was turned, Mr. Barnes decided that it would be safer to prepare
for flight. He therefore cautiously advanced towards the door, and
there paused, ready, however, to dart out on the instant should it be
necessary.
Still the Doctor tugged and jerked and rattled the chains, shrieking
and laughing demoniacally at intervals. Presently, with a shout of
triumph, he did burst one of the chains. Turning towards Mr. Barnes,
he shouted:
"You see! I am the Wizard! I do what I please! You did not think that
I could break it! Ha! Ha! Ha! You do not know Emanuel Medjora! He
accomplishes what he wills! The will controls the muscles, and the
mind controls the will! But now through my brain a liquid fire courses
that makes my mind doubly powerful! I feel that I am getting stronger
every moment! In another second I will snap this last chain as easily
as you would break a cord! Then, then,--Ha! Ha! Ha! I'll have your
heart out! Ha! Ha! Ha! I have an idea! I'll kill you now!"
He rushed forward as far as the remaining chain would permit, and
extending the other arm, to which dangled the end of the chain which
he had broken, he drew it back and then switched the dangling links
viciously towards Mr. Barnes, narrowly missing him. As he saw that
even now he could not reach the detective, he uttered a cry of rage,
and again and again endeavored to strike him with the dangling chain.
But it was useless. Mr. Barnes was beyond his reach. Finally, with a
cry of despair, the Doctor threw himself in a heap upon the floor, now
weeping, now laughing, and shrieking madly:
"They say I am a Wizard! Ha! Ha! Ha! A Wizard! I a Wizard, and I
cannot kill a man! Such a simple thing, and yet I cannot do it! A
Wizard! I a Wizard! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
His Sanatoxine experiment had proven successful. Dr. Emanuel Medjora
was a maniac!
THE END.
WORKS BY R. OTTOLENGUI.
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
All apparent printer's errors retained.