Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1093 page)

“My last letter informed you that I had resolved on making no further use of the Formula for recomposing some of the Borgia Poisons (erroneously supposed to be destroyed) left to me on the death of my lamented Hungarian friend — my master in chemical science.

“The motives which have led me to this decision are, I hope, beyond the reach of blame.

“You will remember agreeing with me, that the two specimens of these resuscitated poisons which I have succeeded in producing are capable — like the poisons already known to modern medical practice — of rendering the utmost benefit in certain cases of disease, if they are administered in carefully regulated doses. Should I live to devote them to this good purpose, there will still be the danger (common to all poisonous preparations employed in medicine) of their doing fatal mischief, when misused by ignorance or crime.

“Bearing this in mind, I conceive it to be my duty to provide against dangerous results, by devoting myself to the discovery of efficient antidotes, before I adapt the preparations themselves to the capacities of the healing art. I have had some previous experience in this branch of what I call preservative chemistry, and I have already in some degree succeeded in attaining my object.

“The Formula in cipher which I now send to you, on the slip of paper enclosed, is an antidote to that one of the two poisons known to you and to me by the fanciful name which you suggested for it — ’Alexander’s Wine.’

“With regard to the second of the poisons, which (if you remember) I have entitled — in anticipation of its employment as medicine — ’The Looking-Glass Drops,’ I regret to say that I have not yet succeeded in discovering the antidote in this case.

“Having now sufficiently explained my present position, I may tell you of the extraordinary accident to which I have alluded at the beginning of my letter.

“About a fortnight since, I was sent for, just as I had finished my lecture to the students, to see one of my servants. He had been suffering from illness for one or two days. I had of course offered him my medical services. He refused, however, to trouble me; sending word that he only wanted rest. Fortunately one of my assistants happened to see him, and at once felt the necessity of calling in my help.

“The man was a poor half-witted friendless creature, whom I had employed out of pure pity to keep my labouratory clean, and to wash and dry my bottles. He had sense enough to perform such small services as these, and no more. Judge of my horror when I went to his bedside, and instantly recognised the symptoms of poisoning by “Alexander’s Wine!”

“I ran back to my labouratory, and unlocked the medicine-chest which held the antidote. In the next compartment, the poison itself was always placed. Looking into the compartment now, I found it empty.

“I at once instituted a search, and discovered the bottle left out on a shelf. For the first time in my life, I had been guilty of inexcusable carelessness. I had not looked round me to see that I had left everything safe before quitting the room. The poor imbecile wretch had been attracted by the colour of “Alexander’s Wine,” and had tasted it (in his own phrase) “to see if it was nice.” My inquiries informed me that this had happened at least thirty-six hours since! I had but one hope of saving him — derived from experiments on animals, which had shown me the very gradual progress of the deadly action of the poison.

“What I felt when I returned to the suffering man, I shall not attempt to describe. You will understand how completely I was overwhelmed, when I tell you that I meanly concealed my own disgraceful thoughtlessness from my brethren in the University. I was afraid that my experiments might be prohibited as dangerous, and my want of common prudence be made the subject of public reprimand by the authorities. The medical professors were permitted by me to conclude that it was a case of illness entirely new in their experience.

“In administering the antidote, I had no previous experiments to guide me, except my experiments with rabbits and dogs. Whether I miscalculated or whether I was deluded by my anxiety to save the man’s life, I cannot say. This at least is certain, I gave the doses too copiously and at too short intervals.

“The patient recovered — but it was after sustaining some incomprehensibly deteriorating change in the blood, which destroyed his complexion, and turned his hair gray. I have since modified the doses; and in dread of losing the memorandum, I have attached a piece of notched paper to the bottle, so as to render any future error of judgment impossible. At the same time, I have facilitated the future administration of the antidote by adding a label to the bottle, stating the exact quantity of the poison taken by my servant, as calculated by myself.

“I ought, by the way, to have mentioned in the cipher that experience has shown me the necessity, if the antidote is to be preserved for any length of time, of protecting it in blue glass from the influence of light.

“Let me also tell you that I found a vegetable diet of use in perfecting the effect of the treatment. That mean dread of discovery, which I have already acknowledged, induced me to avail myself of my wife’s help in nursing the man. When he began to talk of what had happened to him, I could trust Madame Fontaine to keep the secret. When he was well enough to get up, the poor harmless creature disappeared. He was probably terrified at the prospect of entering the labouratory again. In any case, I have never seen him or heard of him since.

“If you have had patience to read as far as this, you will understand that I am not sure enough yet of my own discoveries to risk communicating them to any other person than yourself. Favor me with any chemical suggestions which may strike you — and then, in case of accidents, destroy the cipher. For the present farewell.”

Note to Doctor Fontaine’s Letter

“Alexander’s Wine” refers to the infamous Roderic Borgia, historically celebrated as Pope Alexander the Sixth. He was accidentally, and most deservedly, killed by drinking one of the Borgia poisons, in a bowl of wine which he had prepared for another person.

The formula for “The Looking-Glass Drops” is supposed to have been found hidden on removing the wooden lining at the back of a looking-glass, which had been used by Lucrezia Borgia. Hence the name.

III

The third and last letter which I present is written by me, and was addressed to Mrs. Wagner during her stay at Frankfort: —

“I exaggerate nothing, my dear aunt, when I say that I write in great distress. Let me beg you to prepare yourself for very sad news.

“It was late yesterday evening before I arrived at Bingen. A servant was waiting to take my portmanteau, when I got out of the coach. After first asking my name, he communicated to me the melancholy tidings of dear Mr. Engelman’s death. He had sunk under a fit of apoplexy, at an early hour that morning.

“Medical help was close at hand, and was (so far as I can hear) carefully and intelligently exercised. But he never rallied in the least. The fit appears to have killed him, as a bullet might have killed him.

“He had been very dull and heavy on the previous day. In the few words that he spoke before retiring to rest, my name was on his lips. He said, “If I get better I should like to have David here, and to go on with him to our house of business in London.” He was very much flushed, and complained of feeling giddy; but he would not allow the doctor to be sent for. His brother assisted him to ascend the stairs to his room, and asked him some questions about his affairs. He replied impatiently, ‘Keller knows all about it — leave it to Keller.’

“When I think of the good old man’s benevolent and happy life, and when I remember that it was accidentally through me that he first met Madame Fontaine, I feel a bitterness of spirit which makes my sense of the loss of him more painful than I can describe. I call to mind a hundred little instances of his kindness to me — and (don’t be offended) I wish you had sent some other person than myself to represent you at Frankfort.

“He is to be buried here, in two days’ time. I hope you will not consider me negligent of your interest in accepting his brother’s invitation to follow him to the grave. I think it will put me in a better frame of mind, if I can pay the last tribute of affection and respect to my old friend. When all is over, I will continue the journey to London, without stopping on the road night or day.

“Write to me at London, dear aunt; and give my love to Minna and Fritz — and ask them to write to me also. I beg my best respects to Mr. Keller. Please assure him of my true sympathy; I know, poor man, how deeply he will be grieved.”

PART II

MR. DAVID GLENNEY COLLECTS HIS MATERIALS
AND CONTINUES THE STORY HISTORICALLY

CHAPTER I

In the preceding portion of this narrative I spoke as an eye-witness. In the present part of it, my absence from Frankfort leaves me dependent on the documentary evidence of other persons. This evidence consists (first) of letters addressed to myself; (secondly) of statements personally made to me; (thirdly) of extracts from a diary discovered after the lifetime of the writer. In all three cases the materials thus placed at my disposal bear proof of truthfulness on the face of them.

Early in the month of December, Mr. Keller sent a message to Madame Fontaine, requesting to see her on a matter of importance to both of them.

“I hope you feel better to-day, madam,” he said, rising to receive the widow when she entered the room.

“You are very good, sir,” she answered, in tones barely audible — with her eyes on the ground. “I can’t say that I feel much better.”

“I have news for you, which ought to act as the best of all restoratives,” Mr. Keller proceeded. “At last I have heard from my sister on the subject of the marriage.”

He stopped, and, suddenly stepping forward, caught the widow by the arm. At his last words she had started to her feet. Her face suddenly turned from pale to red — and then changed again to a ghastly whiteness. She would have fallen if Mr. Keller had not held her up. He placed her at once in his own easy chair. “You must really have medical advice,” he said gravely; “your nerves are seriously out of order. Can I get you anything?”

“A glass of water, sir, if you will be so kind as to ring for it.”

“There is no need to ring for it; I have water in the next room.”

She laid her hand on his arm, and stopped him as he was about to leave her.

“One word first, sir. You will forgive a woman’s curiosity on such an interesting subject as the marriage of her child. Does your sister propose a day for the wedding?”

“My sister suggests,” Mr. Keller answered, “the thirtieth of this month.”

He left her and opened the door of the next room.

As he disappeared, she rapidly followed out a series of calculations on her fingers. Her eyes brightened, her energies rallied. “No matter what happens so long as my girl is married first,” she whispered to herself. “The wedding on the thirtieth, and the money due on the thirty-first. Saved by a day! Saved by a day!”

Mr. Keller returned with a glass of water. He started as he looked at her.

“You seem to have recovered already — you look quite a different woman!” he exclaimed.

She drank the water nevertheless. “My unlucky nerves play me strange tricks, sir,” she answered, as she set the empty glass down on a table at her side.

Mr. Keller took a chair and referred to his letter from Munich.

“My sister hopes to be with us some days before the end of the year,” he resumed. “But in her uncertain state of health, she suggests the thirtieth so as to leave a margin in case of unexpected delays. I presume this will afford plenty of time (I speak ignorantly of such things) for providing the bride’s outfit?”

Madame Fontaine smiled sadly. “Far more time than we want, sir. My poor little purse will leave my girl to rely on her natural attractions — with small help from the jeweler and the milliner, on her wedding day.”

Mr. Keller referred to his letter again, and looked up from it with a grim smile.

“My sister will in one respect at least anticipate the assistance of the jeweler,” he said. “She proposes to bring with her, as a present to the bride, an heirloom on the female side of our family. It is a pearl necklace (of very great value, I am told) presented to my mother by the Empress Maria Theresa — in recognition of services rendered to that illustrious person early in life. As an expression of my sister’s interest in the marriage, I thought an announcement of the proposed gift might prove gratifying to you.”