CHAPTER V.

  AMBROTOX.

  Amaryllis found her father and Sir Randal at the breakfast-table.

  "I'm so glad I'm not the laziest," she said, as she took her seat.

  "I'm afraid you are, my dear," replied her father.

  "Dick's fetching his car from Iddingfield," explained Randal.

  The air was torn by three distinct wails from a syren.

  "How unearthly!" said Amaryllis, with her hands to her ears.

  "That's Dick," said his brother. "He would have a noise worse thananyone else's."

  Dick came in from the garden. "Morning, Miss Caldegard," he said, as hesat down. "How d'you like my hooter? Sounds like a fog-horn deprived ofits young, doesn't it?"

  Amaryllis laughed.

  "I hate it," she said.

  Randal looked up from the letter he was reading.

  "I'm afraid you two will have to amuse each other this morning," hesaid, glancing from the girl to his brother as he handed the letteracross the table to Caldegard. "That'll take a lot of answering, and Ican't do it without your help. I'm afraid Sir Charles has got hold ofthe wrong end of the stick."

  "How are you going to amuse me, Miss Caldegard?" asked Dick.

  "I haven't the faintest idea," she replied.

  "Help me try my car?"

  "I should like to--if you can do without me, dad?"

  * * * * *

  At half-past seven that evening Sir Randal went to his brother's room,and found him dressing for dinner.

  "Nice sort of chap you are," he said. "I ask you to amuse a young womanafter breakfast----"

  "I did," said Dick.

  "And you keep her for eight hours. Where have you been?"

  "Miss Caldegard bought things in Oxford Street. We had lunch in Oxford,and tea at Chesham," said Dick, brushing his hair carefully back fromhis forehead. "You can't call that wasting time."

  "Not yours," said his brother. And they went to dinner.

  Before Amaryllis left the table, Dick rose from his seat.

  "Where are you going?" asked his brother.

  "To keep my tryst with Mrs. Rogers," said Dick, and went out.

  "I've told 'em we'll have our wine and coffee in the study, Caldegard,"said Randal. "I think it's the safest place for what we're going to talkabout."

  Amaryllis rose to leave them together, but her father stopped her.

  "You'll come with us, won't you, my dear? You're one of the gang," hesaid.

  "What gang?" she asked, looking at him with eyes opened wide.

  "The Ambrotox gang," replied her father, lowering his voice almost to awhisper. "The only four people in the world, I believe, who know eventhat silly nick-name you invented, Amaryllis, are in this house. SirRandal knows its properties. I know all about it. You know that I havespent two years in reaching it, and Dick Bellamy knows there issomething in which we three are deeply interested. And so Sir Randal hasadvised me to take you younger people into full confidence."

  He slipped his arm through his daughter's, and led the way across thehall and down the narrow passage beyond the stair, to the study.

  Randal, with his back to the open door, was filling the port glasses,while Amaryllis and her father were gazing from the open french-windowacross the moonlit lawn, when all three were startled by a thin,high-pitched voice behind them.

  "Me lib for make one dam fine lot coffee, missy," it said.

  But, turning, they laughed to see only Dick, setting down the tray.

  "When does the seance begin?" he asked, turning to close the door.

  "Now," said his brother. "Better leave that open, and sit here where youcan see right down the passage. Miss Caldegard," he went on, "pleasemake Gorgon lie outside the window."

  Amaryllis stepped out upon the terrace, and the dog followed her. "Liedown," she said. "On guard."

  She came back into the room, and Randal drew the heavy curtains acrossthe window. "Keep your eye on the end of the passage, Dick," he said."There's no other door in it but ours."

  Then he sat down. "Coal-tar," he said, "the mother of wealth, the auntof colour, and the grandmother of drugs, is a mystery to the layman. Thehighest, if not the best known, of its priesthood, is my old friendCaldegard. Some little time ago he penetrated too far into the arcana ofhis cult; and on one of the branches of that terrific tree he found andcoaxed into blossom a bud which grew into the fruit which his daughterhas named Ambrotox--as if it were a beef essence or a cheap wine. Tell'em its properties, Caldegard--in the vernacular."

  Between the first and second puffs at a fresh cigar, Caldegard grunted asort of final protest.

  "You answer for him?" he asked, nodding to Dick.

  "Of course. And you for your daughter."

  "It is," began Caldegard, "the perfect opiate. As anodyne it gives moreease, and as anaesthetic leaves less after-effect to combat than anyother. Morphia, opium, cannabis Indica, cocaine, heroin, veronal andsulphonal act less equally, need larger doses, tempt more rapidly toincrease of dose, and, where the patient knows what drug he has taken,lead, in a certain proportion of cases, very quickly to an ineradicablehabit. In wise hands, the patient's and the public's ignorance beingmaintained, Ambrotox"--and here he bestowed a little laugh on amateurnomenclature--"Ambrotox will be a blessing almost as notable as waschloroform in the fifties.

  "But there's another side: carry the thing a step further, and you havea life, waking, and dreams, sleeping, of delight such as has neverbeen--I think never could be expressed in words; not because, as with DeQuincey and his laudanum, the coherent story of the dreams and visionscannot be remembered, but because the clear sunshine of personalhappiness and confidence in the future--the pure joy of beingalive--which the abuser of Ambrotox experiences in his whole daily life,is incommunicable. It is a period of bliss, of clear head, goodimpulses, celestial dreams, and steady hope. These effects last, on aneven dose, longer than with any other drug of which I have experience.And then there begins and grows a desire for action, the devil preachingthat no good works have resulted from the faith, the hope and the goodintentions. A little more, and we shall accomplish, he assures us, thefull measure of our dreams. The dose is increased, confidence returns,and performance is still for to-morrow. I have never seen a victim ofAmbrotox pursue this descent to the grave, but all analogous experienceassures me that the final stages must be hell."

  "How do you know so much about the effects?" asked Dick.

  "There was only one possible subject for experiment--myself," repliedCaldegard.

  Amaryllis sat upright in her chair, and drew in her breath sharply. Butshe did not speak.

  "Ghastly risk to take," said Dick.

  "Ghastly," assented Caldegard. "But it wasn't the first, nor the secondtime that I'd chanced it. The very memory of the horrors I went throughin curing myself after a course of hashish, gave me faith in my power topush this tremendous experiment to the point I had determined upon,without overshooting the mark."

  "What was the mark?" inquired Dick.

  "The appearance," replied Caldegard, "of certain cardiac symptoms whichI expected."

  "Oh, dad!" exclaimed Amaryllis. "That must have been the time when yousent for Dr. Greaves at three in the morning."

  Caldegard nodded.

  "For three weeks after that," went on Amaryllis indignantly, "I thoughtyou were horribly ill."

  "That, my darling," answered her father, smiling at her, "was because Iwas getting better."

  "I've been wondering, Caldegard," said Randal, "how often and howstrongly the remembrance of that incommunicable bliss cries out for anepicurean repetition of those early stages of your scientificexperiment."

  Caldegard laughed. "Oh, she calls, and calls pretty loud sometimes," hesaid. "Let her call. It's all part of the experiment. Knowledge, yousee, has the sweeter voice."

  Amaryllis had tears in her eyes, and for a moment the others waited onher evident desire to speak.

  "But do you think, father," she s
aid at last, "that's it's really worthwhile to let the world know you have found a more delightful temptationthan opium or cocaine, just for the sake of giving a few sick people amore comfortable medicine than they've been accustomed to. Ambrotox!"she sighed scornfully. "I wish I'd never given it that pretty name. Ithink it's horrid stuff!"

  "That's what I was going to ask," said Dick.

  "As for publicity, my dear boy," replied Caldegard, "Ambrotox will veryprobably do more harm than good if its properties become generalknowledge. But the Home Office is drafting a comprehensive measure forState control of the manufacture and distribution of injurious drugs.You all know that the growth of the drug habit caused serious alarm inthe early days of the war, and that even the amendment to the Defence ofthe Realm Act, forbidding the unauthorised sale and possession ofcocaine and other poisons, did little to diminish the illicit traffic.Such contrabrand dealing is immensely lucrative, and prices rise indirect ratio with the danger. But the new Bill may contain a clausevesting in the State the formulae and the manufacture of allnewly-discovered drugs of this kind. The Government is relying in thismatter greatly upon the experience and advice of Sir Randal, and if asufficiently stringent clause can be devised, it is probable that nevermore than three living persons, in addition to the discoverer, will beacquainted with the processes necessary to the manufacture of a newlydiscovered chemical compound which has been brought under State control.In regard to the good which may be done by Ambrotox--do you remember,Amaryllis, the two pretty little old ladies who lived in the small greyhouse with the red blinds? Don't say names, my child, nor mention thetown. They were sisters and devotedly attached."

  The girl's face was a picture of curiosity.

  "Yes, father," she said. "And they grew pale and anxious. One of themcame to see you, and then the other, several times; and once, justbefore I went to Scotland, they both came together. I remember howdreadfully ill they looked. But when I came home, their cheeks were pinkagain, one always laughed when the other did, and their garden was fullof roses."

  "What about 'em?" asked Dick.

  "This," said Caldegard: "For several years each of those old women hadbeen taking morphia; each had been concealing it from the other; eachhad suffered in conscience the torture of the damned; each confessed tome her vice, and the dreadful failure of her struggle to overcome it.Experimentally I treated each with Ambrotox, in gradually decreasingdoses. The return to health was quicker and more complete than I haddared to hope; the craving for morphia has not reappeared, and I do notthink it will."

  "Oh, you darling!" cried Amaryllis. "I always thought you'd something todo with it."

  "It is the story of two cases only, I admit," continued Caldegard. "ButI am convinced that I have found a means of releasing at least unwillingslaves from that bondage."

  "But what do you gain by telling us?" asked Dick.

  "Secrecy," said Caldegard. "You and my daughter know now the importanceof my two years' work, and you cannot fail to see the danger of a rumourthat 'Professor Caldegard, we understand, has achieved an epoch-makingdiscovery in the history of science. An anodyne with more than all thecharms and few of the dangers of opium will bring comfort with a goodconscience to thousands of sufferers in this nerve-racked world.' Everychemist in the country that knows my line of work will be searching in afurious effort to forestall the new legislation by discovering andputting on the market new synthetic opiates. There is not, perhaps, muchfear that chance shooting will achieve the actual bull's-eye ofAmbrotox. But there is a greater danger than commercialrivalry--criminal! The illicit-drug interest is growing in numbers andwealth. Every threat of so-called temperance legislation stimulates it.We have lately heard much of crime as a policy. Soon, perhaps, the worldwill learn with startled disgust, that crime went into trade two yearsago.

  "There are men in every big city to whom thousands of pounds and thelives of many hirelings would be a small price to pay for the half-sheetof paper and the small bottle hidden in the safe in that alcove.

  "Knowing a little," he concluded, turning to Dick, "you might have toldtoo much. Knowing everything, you will tell nothing at all."

  There was a silence in the room, so heavy that it seemed long. And then,

  "Some dope," said Dick Bellamy.

 
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