Jezebel's Daughter

  "And you have actually discovered the meaning of these hieroglyphics?"

  He laid a second sheet of paper on the table.

  "There is but one cipher that defies interpretation," he said. "If you

  and your correspondent privately arrange to consult the same edition of

  the same book, and if your cipher, or his, refers to a given page and to

  certain lines on that page, no ingenuity can discover you, unaided by a

  previous discovery of the book. All other ciphers, so far as I know, are

  at the mercy of skill and patience. In this case I began (to save time

  and trouble) by trying the rule for interpreting the most simple, and

  most elementary, of all ciphers--that is to say, the use of the ordinary

  language of correspondence, concealed under arbitrary signs. The right

  way to read these signs can be described in two words. On examination of

  the cipher, you will find that some signs will be more often repeated

  than others. Count the separate signs, and ascertain, by simple addition,

  which especial sign occurs oftenest--which follows next in point of

  number--and so on. These comparisons established, ask yourself what vowel

  occurs oftenest, and what consonant occurs oftenest, in the language in

  which you suppose the cipher to be written. The result is merely a

  question of time and patience."

  "And this is the result?" I said, pointing to the second sheet of paper.

  "Read it," he answered; "and judge for yourself."

  The opening sentence of the interpreted cipher appeared to be intended by

  Doctor Fontaine to serve the purpose of a memorandum; repeating privately

  the instructions already attached by labels to the poison called

  "Alexander's Wine," and to its antidote.

  The paragraphs that followed were of a far more interesting kind. They

  alluded to the second poison, called "The Looking-Glass Drops;" and they

  related the result of one of the Professor's most remarkable experiments

  in the following words:--

  VI

  "The Looking-Glass Drops. Fatal Dose, as discovered by experiments on

  animals, the same as in the case of Alexander's Wine. But the effect, in

  producing death, more rapid, and more indistinguishable, in respect of

  presenting traces on post-mortem examination.

  "After many patient trials, I can discover no trustworthy antidote to

  this infernal poison. Under these circumstances, I dare not attempt to

  modify it for medical use. I would throw it away--but I don't like to be

  beaten. If I live a little longer, I will try once more, with my mind

  refreshed by other studies.

  "A month after writing these lines (which I have repeated in plain

  characters, on the bottle, for fear of accidents), I tried again--and

  failed again. Annoyed by this new disappointment, I did something

  unworthy of me as a scientific man.

  "After first poisoning an animal with the Looking-Glass Drops, I

  administered a dose from the blue bottle, containing the antidote to

  Alexander's Wine--knowing perfectly well the different nature of the two

  poisons; expecting nothing of any scientific importance to follow; and

  yet trusting stupidly to chance to help me.

  "The result was startling in the last degree. It was nothing less than

  the complete suspension of all the signs of life (as we know them) for a

  day, and a night, and part of another day. I only knew that the animal

  was not really dead, by observing, on the morning of the second day, that

  no signs of decomposition had set in--the season being summer, and the

  laboratory badly ventilated.

  "An hour after the first symptoms of revival had astonished me, the

  creature was as lively again as usual, and ate with a good appetite.

  After a lapse of ten days, it is still in perfect health. This

  extraordinary example of the action and reaction of the ingredients of

  the poison and the ingredients of the antidote on each other, and on the

  sources of life, deserves, and shall have, the most careful

  investigation. May I live to carry the inquiry through to some good use,

  and to record it on another page!"

  There was no other page, and no further record. The Professor's last

  scientific aspiration had not been fulfilled.

  VII

  "It was past midnight," said the doctor, "when I made the discovery, with

  which you are now acquainted. I went at once to Mr. Keller. He had

  fortunately not gone to bed; and he accompanied me to the Deadhouse.

  Knowing the overseer's private door, at the side of the building, I was

  able to rouse him with very little delay. In the excitement that

  possessed me, I spoke of the revival as a possible thing in the hearing

  of the servants. The whole household accompanied us to the Deadhouse, at

  the opposite extremity of the building. What we saw there, I am utterly

  incapable of describing to you. I was in time to take the necessary

  measures for keeping Mrs. Wagner composed, and for removing her without

  injury to Mr. Keller's house. Having successfully accomplished this, I

  presumed that my anxieties were at an end. I was completely mistaken."

  "You refer to Madame Fontaine, I suppose?"

  "No; I refer to Jack. The poor wretch's ignorant faith had unquestionably

  saved his mistress's life. I should never have ventured (even if I had

  been acquainted with the result of the Professor's experiment, at an

  earlier hour) to run the desperate risk, which Jack confronted without

  hesitation. The events of the night (aggravated by the brandy that

  Schwartz had given to him) had completely overthrown the balance of his

  feeble brain. He was as mad, for the time being, as ever he could have

  been in Bedlam. With some difficulty, I prevailed on him to take a

  composing mixture. He objected irritably to trust me; and, even when the

  mixture had begun to quiet him, he was ungrateful enough to speak

  contemptuously of what I had done for him. 'I had a much better remedy

  than yours,' he said, 'made by a man who was worth a hundred of you.

  Schwartz and I were fools enough to give it to Mrs. Housekeeper, last

  night.' I thought nothing of this--it was one of the eccentricities which

  were to be expected from him, in his condition. I left him quietly

  asleep; and I was about to go home, and get a little rest myself--when

  Mr. Keller's son stopped me in the hall. 'Do go and see Madame Fontaine,'

  he said; 'Minna is alarmed about her mother.' I went upstairs again

  directly."

  "Had you noticed anything remarkable in Madame Fontaine," I asked,

  "before Fritz spoke to you?"

  "I noticed, at the Deadhouse, that she looked frightened out of her

  senses; and I was a little surprised--holding the opinion I did of

  her--that such a woman should show so much sensibility. Mr. Keller took

  charge of her, on our way back to the house. I was quite unprepared for

  what I saw afterwards, when I went to her room at Fritz's request.

  "Did you discover the resemblance to Mr. Keller's illness?"

  "No--not till afterwards. She sent her daughter out of the room; and I

  thought she looked at me strangely, when we were alone. 'I want the paper

  that I gave you in the street, last night,' she said. I asked her
why she

  wanted it. She seemed not to know how to reply; she became excited and

  confused. 'To destroy it, to be sure!' she burst out suddenly. 'Every

  bottle my husband left is destroyed--strewed here, there, and everywhere,

  from the Gate to the Deadhouse. Oh, I know what you think of me--I defy

  you!' She seemed to forget what she had said, the moment she had said

  it--she turned away, and opened a drawer, and took out a book closed by

  metal clasps. My presence in the room appeared to be a lost perception in

  her mind. The clasps of the book, as well as I could make it out, opened

  by touching some spring. I noticed that her hands trembled as they tried

  to find the spring. I attributed the trembling to the terrors of the

  night, and offered to help her. 'Let my secrets alone,' she said--and

  pushed the book under the pillow of her bed. It was my professional duty

  to assist her, if I could. Though I attached no sort of importance to

  what Jack had said, I thought it desirable, before I prescribed for her,

  to discover whether she had really taken some medicine of her own or not.

  She staggered back from me, on my repeating what I had heard from Jack,

  as if I had terrified her. 'What remedy does he mean? I drank nothing but

  a glass of wine. Send for him directly--I must, and will speak to him!' I

  told her this was impossible; I could not permit his sleep to be

  disturbed. 'The watchman!' she cried; 'the drunken brute! send for him.'

  By this time I began to conclude that there was really something wrong. I

  called in her daughter to look after her while I was away, and then left

  the room to consult with Fritz. The only hope of finding Schwartz (the

  night-watch at the Deadhouse being over by that time) was to apply to his

  sister the nurse. I knew where she lived; and Fritz most kindly offered

  to go to her. By the time Schwartz was found, and brought to the house,

  Madame Fontaine was just able to understand what he said, and no more. I

  began to recognize the symptoms of Mr. Keller's illness. The apathy which

  you remember was showing itself already. 'Leave me to die,' she said

  quietly; 'I deserve it.' The last effort of the distracted mind, rousing

  for a moment the sinking body, was made almost immediately afterwards.

  She raised herself on the pillow, and seized my arm. 'Mind!' she said,

  'Minna is to be married on the thirteenth!' Her eyes rested steadily on

  me, while she spoke. At the last word, she sank back, and relapsed into

  the condition in which you have just seen her."

  "Can you do nothing for her?"

  "Nothing. Our modern science is absolutely ignorant of the poisons which

  Professor Fontaine's fatal ingenuity revived. Slow poisoning by

  reiterated doses, in small quantities, we understand. But slow poisoning

  by one dose is so entirely beyond our experience, that medical men in

  general refuse to believe in it."

  "Are you sure that she is poisoned?" I asked.

  "After what Jack told me this morning when he woke, I have no doubt she

  is poisoned by 'Alexander's Wine.' She appears to have treacherously

  offered it to him as a remedy--and to have hesitated, at the last moment,

  to let him have it. As a remedy, Jack's ignorant faith gave it to her by

  the hands of Schwartz. When we have more time before us, you shall hear

  the details. In the meanwhile, I can only tell you that the retribution

  is complete. Madame Fontaine might even now be saved, if Jack had not

  given all that remained of the antidote to Mrs. Wagner.

  "Is there any objection to my asking Jack for the particulars?"

  "The strongest possible objection. It is of the utmost importance to

  discourage him from touching on the subject, in the future. He has

  already told Mrs. Wagner that he has saved her life; and, just before you

  came in, I found him comforting Minna. 'Your mamma has taken her own good

  medicine, Missy; she will soon get well.' I have been obliged--God

  forgive me!--to tell your aunt and Minna that he is misled by insane

  delusions, and that they are not to believe one word of what he has said

  to them."

  "No doubt your motive justifies you," I said--not penetrating his motive

  at the moment.

  "You will understand me directly," he answered. "I trust to your honor

  under any circumstances. Why have I taken you into my confidence, under

  _these_ circumstances? For a very serious reason, Mr. David. You are

  likely to be closely associated, in the time to come, with your aunt and

  Minna--and I look to you to help the good work which I have begun. Mrs.

  Wagner's future life must not be darkened by a horrible recollection.

  That sweet girl must enjoy the happy years that are in store for her,

  unembittered by the knowledge of her mother's guilt. Do you understand,

  now, why I am compelled to speak unjustly of poor Jack?"

  As a proof that I understood him, I promised the secrecy which he had

  every right to expect from me.

  The entrance of the nurse closed our conference. She reported Madame

  Fontaine's malady to be already altering for the worse.

  The doctor watched the case. At intervals, I too saw her again.

  Although it happened long ago, I cannot prevail upon myself to dwell on

  the deliberate progress of the hellish Borgia poison, in undermining the

  forces of life. The nervous shudderings reached their climax, and then

  declined as gradually as they had arisen. For hours afterwards, she lay

  in a state of complete prostration. Not a last word, not a last look,

  rewarded the devoted girl, watching faithfully at the bedside. No more of

  it--no more! Late in the afternoon of the next day, Doctor Dormann,

  gently, most gently, removed Minna from the room. Mr. Keller and I looked

  at each other in silence. We knew that Madame Fontaine was dead.

  VIII

  I had not forgotten the clasped book that she had tried vainly to open,

  in Doctor Dormann's presence. Taking it myself from under the pillow, I

  left Mr. Keller and the doctor to say if I should give it, unopened, to

  Minna.

  "Certainly not!" said the doctor.

  "Why not?"

  "Because it will tell her what she must never know. I believe that book

  to be a Diary. Open it, and see."

  I found the spring and opened the clasps. It _was_ a Diary.

  "You judged, I suppose, from the appearance of the book?" I said.

  "Not at all. I judged from my own experience, at the time when I was

  Medical Officer at the prison here. An educated criminal is almost

  invariably an inveterate egotist. We are all interesting to

  ourselves--but the more vile we are, the more intensely we are absorbed

  in ourselves. The very people who have, logically speaking, the most

  indisputable interest in concealing their crimes, are also the very

  people who, almost without exception, yield to the temptation of looking

  at themselves in the pages of a Diary."

  "I don't doubt your experience, doctor. But your results puzzle me."

  "Think a little, Mr. David, and you will not find the riddle so very hard

  to read. The better we are, the more unselfishly we are interested in

  others. The worse we are, the more inveterately our interest is
br />   concentrated on ourselves. Look at your aunt as an example of what I say.

  This morning there were some letters waiting for her, on the subject of

  those reforms in the treatment of mad people, which she is as resolute as

  ever to promote--in this country as well as in England. It was with the

  greatest difficulty that I prevailed on her not to answer those letters

  just yet: in other words, not to excite her brain and nervous system,

  after such an ordeal as she has just passed through. Do you think a

  wicked woman--with letters relating merely to the interests of other

  people waiting for her--would have stood in any need of my interference?

  Not she! The wicked woman would have thought only of herself, and would

  have been far too much interested in her own recovery to run the risk of

  a relapse. Open that book of Madame Fontaine's at any of the later

  entries. You will find the miserable woman self-betrayed in every page.

  It was true! Every record of Madame Fontaine's most secret moments,

  presented in this narrative, was first found in her Diary.

  As an example:-- Her Diary records, in the fullest detail, the infernal

  ingenuity of the stratagem by which she usurped her title to Mr. Keller's

  confidence, as the preserver of his life. "I have only to give him the

  Alexander's Wine," she writes, "to make sure, by means of the antidote,

  of curing the illness which I have myself produced. After that, Minna's

  mother becomes Mr. Keller's guardian angel, and Minna's marriage is a

  certainty."

  On a later page, she is similarly self described--in Mrs. Wagner's

  case--as acting from an exactly opposite motive, in choosing the

  Looking-Glass Drops. "They not only kill soonest, and most surely defy

  detection," she proceeds, "but I have it on the authority of the label,

  that my husband has tried to find the antidote to these Drops, and has

  tried in vain. If my heart fails me, when the deed is done, there can be

  no reprieve for the woman whose tongue I must silence for ever--or, after

  all I have sacrificed, my child's future is ruined."

  There is little doubt that she intended to destroy these compromising

  pages, on her return to Mr. Keller's house--and that she would have

  carried out her intention, but for those first symptoms of the poison,

  which showed themselves in the wandering of her mind, and the helpless

  trembling of her hands.

  The final entry in the Diary has an interest of its own, which I think

  justifies the presentation of it in this place. It shows the purifying

  influence of the maternal instinct in a wicked nature, surviving to the

  last. Even Madame Fontaine's nature preserved, in this way, a softer

  side. On the memorable occasion of her meeting with Mr. Keller in the

  hall, she had acted as imprudently as if she had been the most foolish

  woman living, in her eagerness to plead Minna's cause with the man on

  whom Minna's marriage depended. She had shrunk from poisoning harmless

  Jack, even for her own protection. She would not even seduce Minna into

  telling a lie, when a lie would have served them both at the most

  critical moment of their lives.

  Are such redeeming features unnatural in an otherwise wicked woman? Think

  of your own "inconsistencies." Read these last words of a sinner--and

  thank God that you were not tempted as she was:

  ". . . Sent Minna out of my room, and hurt my sensitive girl cruelly. I

  am afraid of her! This last crime seems to separate me from that pure

  creature--all the more, because it has been committed in her dearest

  interests, and for her sweet sake. Every time she looks at me, I am

  afraid she may see what I have done for her, in my face. Oh, how I long

  to take her in my arms, and devour her with kisses! I daren't do it--I

  daren't do it."

  Lord, have mercy on her--miserable sinner!