“Poison?” said Jim, aghast.
Mendhlesohn shook his head.
“Technically, yes,” he admitted. “There is poison in almost everything, but I doubt whether the eating of a thousand of these would produce death. I found traces of bromide of potassium and traces of hyacin, and another drug which is distilled from cannabis indica.”
“That is hashish, isn’t it?”
Mendhlesohn nodded.
“When it is smoked it is called hashish; when it is distilled we have another name for it. These three drugs come, of course, into the category of poisons, and in combination, taken in large doses, they would produce unconsciousness and ultimately death, but there is not enough of the drug present in these sweets to bring about that alarming result.”
“What result would it produce?” asked Jim.
“That is just what is puzzling me and my friend, Dr. Jakes,” said Mendhlesohn, rubbing his unshaven chin. “Jakes thinks that, administered in small continuous doses, the effect of this drug would be to destroy the willpower, and, what for a better term I would describe in the German fashion, as the resistance-to-evil-power of the human mind. In England, as you probably know, when a nervous and highly excitable man is sentenced to death, it is the practice to place minute doses of bromide in everything he eats and drinks, in order to reduce him to such a low condition of mental resistance that even the thought of an impending doom has no effect upon him.”
Jim’s face had gone suddenly pale, as the horror of the villainous plot dawned upon him.
“What effect would this have upon a high-spirited girl, who was, let us say, being made love to by a man she disliked?”
The chemist shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose that eventually her dislike would develop into apathy and indifference. She would not completely forgo her resistance to his attentions, but at the same time that resistance would be more readily overcome. There are only two types of mind,” he went on, “the ‘dominant’ and the ‘recessive.’ We call the ‘dominant’ that which is the more powerful, and the ‘recessive’ that which is the less powerful. In this world it is possible for a little weak man to dominate a big and vigorous man, by what you would call the sheer force of his personality. The effect of this drug would ultimately be to turn a powerful mind into a weak mind. I hope I am not being too scientific,” he smiled.
“I can follow you very well,” said Jim quietly. “Now tell me this, Mendhlesohn, would it be possible to get a conviction against the person who supplied these sweets?”
Mendhlesohn shook his head.
“As I told you, the doses are in such minute quantities that it is quite possible they may have got in by accident. I have only been able to find what we chemists call a ‘trace’ so far, but probably the doses would be increased from week to week. If in three weeks’ time you bring me chocolates or other food that has been tampered with, I shall be able to give you a very exact analysis.”
“Were all the chocolates I brought similarly treated?”
Mendhlesohn nodded.
“If they have been doped,” he went on, “the doping has been very cleverly done. There is no discoloration of the interior, and the drug must have been introduced by what we call saturation, which only a very skilful chemist or a doctor trained in chemistry would attempt.”
Jim said nothing. Digby Groat was both a skilled chemist and a doctor trained in chemistry.
On leaving the laboratory he went for his favourite walk in Hyde Park. He wanted to be alone and think this matter out. He must act with the greatest caution, he thought. To warn the girl on such slender foundation was not expedient. He must wait until the dose had been increased, though that meant that she was to act as a bait for Digby Groat’s destruction, and he writhed at the thought. But she must not know; he was determined as to this.
That night he had arranged a pleasant little dinner, and he was looking forward eagerly to a meeting with one whose future absorbed his whole attention and thoughts. Even the search for Lady Mary Danton had receded into the background, and might have vanished altogether as a matter of interest were it not for the fact that Digby Groat and his affairs were so inextricably mixed up with the mystery. Whilst Eunice Weldon was an inmate of the Groats’ house, the Danton mystery would never be completely out of his thoughts.
XIV
Jim had never seen the girl in evening clothes, and he was smitten dumb by her ethereal beauty. She wore a simple dress of cream charmeuse, innocent of colour, except for the touch of gold at her waist. She looked taller to Jim’s eyes, and the sweet dignity of her face was a benison which warmed and comforted his heart.
“Well,” she asked as the cab was proceeding towards Piccadilly, “am I presentable?”
“You’re wonderful!” breathed Jim.
He sat stiffly in the cab, scarcely daring to move, lest the substance of this beautiful dream be touched by his irreverent hands. Her loveliness was unearthly and he, too, could adore, though from a different standpoint, the glorious promise of her womanhood, the delicious contours of her Madonna-like face. She was to him the spirit and embodiment of all that womanhood means. She was the truth of the dreams that men dream, the divine substance of shadowy figures that haunt their thoughts and dreams.
“Phew!” he said, “you almost frighten me, Eunice.”
He heard her silvery laugh in the darkness.
“You’re very silly, Jim,” she said, slipping her arm into his.
Nevertheless, she experienced a thrill of triumph and happiness that she had impressed him so.
“I have millions of questions to ask you,” she said after they had been ushered
