Robert Alter - 100 Malicious Little Mysteries

It took him but a brief search to discover, amidst the chemical apparatus, a large bottle labeled Laudanum. This was a tincture of opium, he knew, and no less an authority than de Quincey had reckoned twenty-five drops of laudanum to be the equivalent of one grain of pure opium. Yes, this would satisfy his need.

His hand was just closing over the bottle when a voice from the doorway rasped, “Who is there? Who are you?”

Blair whirled to face the man, the dagger ready in his hand. “Get back,” he warned. “I am armed.”

The figure in the doorway reached up to light the gas flame, and Blair saw that he was a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of perhaps fifty, with a countenance that was undeniably handsome. “What do you want here, man? This is my laboratory. There is no money here!”

“I need—” began Blair, feeling the perspiration collecting on his forehead. “I need opium.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the handsome doctor. “My God! Have conditions in London come to this? Do opium fiends now prowl the streets and break into physicans’ homes in search of this devilish drug?”

“Get out of my way,” returned Blair, “or I will kill you!”

“Wait! Let me — let me try to help you in some way. Let me summon the police. This craving that obsesses you will destroy you in time. You need help, medical treatment.”

As he spoke, the doctor moved forward slowly, forcing Blair back towards the far wall of the room. “I don’t want help,” sobbed the cornered man. “It’s too late to help me now.”

The doctor took a step closer. “It is never too late! Don’t you realize what this drug is doing to you, man? Don’t you see how it releases everything that is cruel and sick and evil in you? Under the influence of opium, or any drug, you become a different person. You are no longer in command of your own will.”

Blair had backed to the wall now, and he could feel its chill firmness through his coat. He raised the dagger menacingly. “Come any closer. Sawbones, and I swear I will kill you!”

The doctor hesitated a moment. He glanced at the darkened skylight above their heads, where the rain was now beating a steady tattoo upon the glass. Then he said, “The mind of man is his greatest gift. To corrupt it, to poison it with drugs, is something hateful and immoral. I hope that I am never in a position where I lose control of my free will because I have surrendered to the dark side of my nature. You, poor soul, are helpless in the grip of this opium, like the wretched folk who smoke it in the illegal dens, curled upon their bunks and oblivious of the outer world.”

“I... I—” began Blair, but the words were lost in his throat. The physician was right, he knew, but he was beyond caring now, beyond distinguishing between right and wrong. He only knew that the doctor had forced him further from the bottle of laudanum.

“Let me call the police,” urged the doctor, softly.

“No!”

The physician’s hand moved, all in a flash, seizing one of the bottles from the shelf beside him and hurling it upwards through the skylight. There was a shattering of glass and a shower of silvery white pellets from the bottle. Then a sudden violet flame seemed to engulf the entire skylight, burning with a hissing sound that ended almost at once with a burst of explosive violence.

Terrified, Blair tried to lunge past the doctor, but the large hands were instantly upon him, fastening on his coat and wrist, forcing the dagger away.

They were still locked in a life-and-death, silent struggle when, moments later, a helmeted bobby burst into the laboratory. “What’s happening here, sir? I saw the flame and heard the explosion—”

“Help me with this man,” shouted the physician. “He’s trying to steal opium!”

Within seconds Blair was helpless, his arms pinioned to his sides by the burly police-officer. “Take me,” he mumbled. “Take me and lock me up. Help me.”

Another bobby arrived on the scene, attracted by the noise and flame. “What was it?” he asked the doctor.

“I had to signal you somehow,” he told them. “There were potassium pellets in the bottle and I took a risk that enough rainwater had collected on the skylight to set off a chemical reaction. Potassium reacts even more violently with water than does sodium.”

“You were successful,” returned the second policeman. “I heard that boom two streets away.”

The doctor was busy moving some of his equipment out of the rain which was still falling through the shattered skylight. “I think with treatment this man can be saved,” said he. “It is his addiction that has led him into a life of crime.”

“I would not worry too much about him, sir. He could have killed you with this dagger.”

“But I do worry about him, as I would about any human being. As for myself, I was much more fearful that he would wreck my laboratory. I have been engaged in some important experiments here, relating to transcendental medicine, and I feel I am on the verge of discovery.”

The first police-officer pulled Blair towards the door. “Then we will leave you alone to clean up, sir. And good luck with your experiments.” He was half-way out the door when he paused and said, “O, by the by, sir, I will need your name for my report. I did not have time to catch it on the brass outside.”

“Certainly,” replied the physician, with a smile. “The name is Jekyll. Doctor Henry Jekyll.”

“Don’t you see? He had to be stopped.”

“Stopped, Mrs. Sutherland? Stopped from doing what?”

“If I hadn’t acted she would have died. He would have killed her.”

“Who, Mrs. Sutherland? Who would he have killed?”

“You’re looking at me like you don’t believe me. Lieutenant Foley. You think I’m just a batty old lady, don’t you? An old lady who’s lost her marbles.”

“No, I don’t. Really, I don’t.”

“Like crazy Mrs. Jessup who’s always calling the police or the F.B.I, about enemy agents hiding under her bed. I’m right, aren’t I? That’s what you think.”

“I swear, Mrs. Sutherland, I don’t think that at all.”

“Then why don’t you believe me?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Mrs. Sutherland, it isn’t that I don’t believe you. It’s just that I... well, I guess I really don’t understand . I mean, I don’t have the full picture.”

“I’ve tried to answer all your questions. Lieutenant.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that, Mrs. Sutherland. But still—”

“What?”

“Look, I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me about it again, from start to finish? I promise you I won’t interrupt.”

“From start to finish? Yes, maybe that would be best, and I suppose the best place to start would be with Cora and Jim. Cora and Jim Franklin. Such a nice couple. They remind me of the late Mr. Sutherland and myself when we were young. A very nice couple, the Franklins. Of course, they have their problems. More than their share. She was pregnant when they got married, you know. That’s not always the best way to start a marriage, especially since the baby wasn’t Jim’s. That awful Harrington Furth.”

“Uh, Mrs. Sutherland—”

“Lieutenant, you promised you wouldn’t interrupt.”

“I know, Mrs. Sutherland, but I’m afraid I’m a little lost. Who is Harrington Furth?”

“Lieutenant, if you will hold your horses I’ll get to that, I promise you. All in good time. But you mustn’t interrupt.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sutherland.”

“Where was I?”

“Harrington Furth.”

“Oh, yes, Harrington. A very rich, very irresponsible young man. His father is the president of Furth Electronics, you know — a very distinguished man. But Harrington, I’m afraid, doesn’t take after his father. Or should I say Harrington didn’t take after his father? Oh, well, you understand my meaning, I’m sure. It must have been very hard on old Mrs. Furth, having a son like Harrington. Always racing around in his fancy cars, always getting into trouble. And his father always coming to the rescue. I swear, if it had been me, I would have let that young man stew in his own juice! It might have taught him a sense of responsibility. And the way he drank!