Dorothy Sayers - The Documents in the Case

One of these, having nothing particular to do, came forward and asked if we wanted anybody in particular. Munting replied that he was looking for Mr Leader.

‘Leader?’ said the student. ‘Let me see. He’s a second-year man, isn’t he? Where’s Leader, anybody know?’

A young man in spectacles said he fancied Leader was in Room 27.

‘Oh, yes, to be sure. Try 27 — along the corridor on the right, up the steps and the second door on the left. If he’s not there, I expect they’ll be able to tell you. Not at all, pleasure.’

We found our way to Room 27, and there, among a group of students, found Leader, who greeted Munting with loud demonstrations of joy. I was introduced, and explained that I was anxious for a little information, if he could spare the time.

He led us to a quiet corner, and Munting reminded him of his previous visit with Lathom and the conversation about synthetic poisons. He was only too delighted to assist us, and led us along at once to another room, inhabited only by the usual couple of absorbed men in a far corner, who took no notice of us.

‘Here you are,’ said Leader, cheerfully, displaying an open cupboard stacked with glass bottles. ‘Convincing demonstration of the way we’ve got Mother Nature beat. Synthetic thyroxin — same stuff you produce in your own throat, handy and available without the tedious formality of opening you up. A small daily dose gives you pep. Camphor, our own brand, cures cold and kills beetles. Take a sniff and admire the fine, rich, natural aroma. Cinchona, all my own work, or, strictly speaking, Professor Benton’s. Adrenalin — that’s the stuff to make your hair stand on end; full of kidney punch. Muscarine — not so pretty as scarlet toadstools, but just as good for giving you tummy-ache. Urea—’

‘That’s very interesting, isn’t it?’ said Munting.

‘Very,’ said I. My hand shook a little as I took the bottle from Leader. It was a squat, wide-mouthed glass jar, about half-full of a whitish powder, and clearly labelled ‘Muscarine (Synthetic) C5H15NO8’.

‘It’s rather deadly, I suppose,’ I added, with as much carelessness as I could assume.

‘Fairly so,’ said Leader. ‘Not quite as powerful as the natural stuff, I believe, but quite disagreeable enough. A teaspoonful would settle your hash all right, and leave a bit over for the dog. Nice symptoms. Sickness, blindness, delirium and convulsions.’ He grinned fondly at the bottle. ‘Like to try some? Take it in a little water and the income-tax won’t bother you again.’

‘What’s it made of, Leader?’ asked Munting.

‘Oh — inorganic stuff, you know — all artificial. I couldn’t say offhand. I can look it up if you like.’ He hunted in a locker and produced a notebook. ‘Oh, yes, of course. Cholin. You start with artificial cholin.’

‘What’s that? Something to do with the liver?’

‘Well, yes, in the ordinary way. But you can make it by heating ethene oxide with triethylamine. That gives you your cholin. Then you oxidise it with dilute nitric acid — the stuff you etch with, you know. Result, muscarine. Pretty, isn’t it?’

‘And if you analyse it again chemically, could you tell the difference between that and the real stuff?’

‘Of course not. It is the real stuff. I don’t think we’ve got any of the natural muscarine about the place, or you’d see. But there’s no difference at all, really. Nature’s only a rather clumsy kind of chemist, don’t you see. You’re a chemical laboratory; your body, I mean — so am I — so’s everybody — only rather a careless and inaccurate one, and given to producing unnecessary flourishes and ornaments, like your face, or toadstools. There’s no need to make a toadstool when you want to produce muscarine. If it comes to that, I don’t suppose there’s any real need for your face — from a chemical point of view. We could build you up quite easily in the labs if we wanted to. You’re mostly water, you know, with a little salt and phosphates and all that kind of thing.’

‘Come, Leader, that won’t quite do. You couldn’t make me walk and talk, could you?’ (This was Munting, of course.)

‘Well, no. There’s a trifling hitch there, I admit — always supposing anybody wants to hear your bright conversation.’

‘Then there is something — what I call Life — which you can’t imitate.’

‘Well, yes. But I daresay we shall find it some day. It can’t be anything very out-of-the-way, can it? I mean, there’s an awful lot of it knocking about. The trouble is, one doesn’t seem to be able to find it by chemical analysis. If one could, you know, it would probably turn out to be something quite ordinary, and then one could make it.’

‘The lost formula of Rossum’s Universal Robots , eh?’

‘Very likely,’ said Leader, ‘that’s a play, isn’t it? I never go to high-brow plays. All rot, you know — more in your line. But there it is. Analyse you and you’re just so much dead matter. Analyse toadstools, and you get this muscarine stuff. Makes one think a bit less of the marvels of Nature, don’t it?’

‘Except,’ said Munting, who had by now mounted on his usual hobby-horse, ‘except for the small accident of Life, which is, as you say, a triviality, no doubt, but yet—’

I interrupted him.

‘We don’t want to waste Mr Leader’s time with metaphysics.’

‘No,’ said Munting, obstinately, ‘but what I want to know—’

A tremendous clattering of feet in the corridor heralded the throwing open of the door and the irruption of a large number of young men in overalls.

‘Oh, Lord,’ said Leader, ‘we’ll have to clear out.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I say, do you mind if I barge off? There’s a demonstration I’ve simply got to attend. Nuisance, but I’m rather behind with Dimmock’s subjects. Must mug it up somehow. Awfully pleased to have seen you. Can you find your way out?’

‘Just a moment,’ said Munting. ‘You remember the fellow I brought with me last year — Lathom — the artist?’

‘Yes, of course — the fellow who was so keen on poisons. Asked such a lot of questions about the right dose, and was so struck with our synthetic stuff. Didn’t seem able to get over the fact that you couldn’t distinguish artificial muscarine from the natural product by chemical analysis. Very intelligent bloke I thought he was — for an artist. I remember him perfectly. Why?’

‘Have you seen anything of him since?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I just wondered. He said something once about looking you up.’

‘Well, he didn’t. Perhaps he came in the vac. There’s nobody here then, except the swots and the dunces trying to cram themselves for the exams. Tell him to come in term-time. I really must buzz along. I say, come and feed one night, won’t you?’

Munting promised to do so, and Leader escaped, cannoning violently into the demonstrator as he dashed out. We followed, not wishing to be caught and interrogated.

‘That was Benton,’ said Munting, looking back at the closing door. ‘I wish we could have had a word with him. If Leader—’

‘About the origin of life, I suppose? You’re cracked about the origin of life. It’s the origin of death we’re investigating. We’ve got what we came for. It’s clear enough that anybody might have walked in and helped himself to a dose of that stuff. Look at those places we went into. No one to stop us — and it’s term-time, too. In the vac. the place is absolutely deserted. If Lathom was over here in the vac. — and he was. Don’t you remember those letters of Margaret Harrison’s? He was here in July.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Munting, thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I quite see that. But the difficulty is to prove it. Just because it’s so easy to get in, it’s a million to one against anybody having noticed you. And you can’t expect a jury to accept a vague possibility like that. If there was any analysable difference between natural and synthetic muscarine, then, of course, you would have something genuine to go upon. Because it would be quite impossible to eat synthetic muscarine by accident — except in a laboratory. But apparently there is no difference.’