"Some experiment which he is studying out," muttered Leon, and proceeded with his own grim purpose. He went into the laboratory, and lighted a lamp which was on the bench. He searched the closet where the drugs were kept, but the chloroform bottle was missing. He turned to the rack where he had left the tube in which the diphtheria bacillus had been cultivated, but that also could not be found.
In a moment, realizing that the means of committing the contemplated crime had in some mysterious way been taken from him, he awoke from the delirium of his thoughts, which had been brought on by his grief at the death of his dog, and he fervently thanked the fortune which had saved him from committing murder. Like a culprit, he returned stealthily to his room, head down, and there he sat at the window, looking out at the stars, grateful that he could do so, free from that dread secret which might have been his. He was saved!
On the next morning, however, Leon was horrified to hear that Madame had been suddenly taken ill, and that the malady was diphtheria, in its most virulent form. He could not understand it, but he was more than glad that his own conscience was free from stain.
Two days later, Madame Medjora succumbed to the disease, which is often fatal when it attacks one of her age; and so she went to her long account, with her sins upon her head.
CHAPTER XIV.
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 Æsculapius, 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 Löffler 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 habitués 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?"