"You don't know chemistry, dear," I said, feeling quite superior. "He
couldn't poison me that way without poisoning himself."
"He did," Helen said very slowly. "When they found you, Prospero was
dead."
It took a long time for this to get into my brain in plausible shape.
"Prospero--dead?" I puzzled.
"Yes, dear."
"But there was nothing poisonous in the fumes of the Texas formula--only
an aromatic oil to deceive meddlers."
"Prospero used that oil as a solvent for the poison--you see, Ted, I've
been studying chemistry too--I shall read you the analysis we had made,
tomorrow."
"Analysis--then you've found out the Texas formula?"
"Yes, Ted. It's all right--the factory is making it now."
"Did you work it out?" I asked--the puzzle was only slowly unravelling.
"No, dear--my chemistry hasn't gone that far! The young assistant
Knowlton got from the Owens' Company did it."
"And the poison?"
"That was the difficulty. When we first got to you, Ted, we didn't know
what it was, or what antidote to use. Your heart had slowed down to
almost nothing--"
"There is a poison chart with a list of the symptoms and antidotes in my
desk."
"Yes, Ted. I found that, and we got Dr. Sinclair quickly."
"You found it?"
"It was about five in the morning when one of the foremen happened to go
into your laboratory. It made him ill, for the place was reeking--you
and Prospero were lying on the floor. He threw open the windows and
telephoned Mr. Knowlton. He dressed and called up father, and I went
too, in spite of my knee."
"But why did Knowlton call up your father?"
"To let me know, Ted. Wasn't that dear of him? And I was really able to
help. They wanted to take you to a hospital, but dad wouldn't listen to
that--and so here you are."
I kissed her hand and tried to put in order the story as she had told
it.
"I wonder why it didn't kill me, if it killed Prospero?"