CHAPTER NINE
The proprietors of Wotinabee Lodge and organizers of the Wotinabee Conference had reached agreement on one salient feature-- that although scientific saturation of the conferees had been attained on the Friday, after five intensive days of meetings there would be a substantial group who could be counted on to remain and enjoy the ambience of the place without the professional strain associated with the conference proceedings. Since the next booking, by a society of clinical psychologists, was not until late Sunday a special rate had been offered for those who could afford the time to recuperate before returning fired up with new ideas to their home laboratories. Most of Janet’s associates who were within easy driving distance from Essex U on the Sunday, took advantage of the extra day in the out-of doors. Janet herself was glad of the decision to stay on. As a beautiful sunlit day dawned she aroused herself, happy to feel that she was well on the way to normal health. She still was not quite up to an early morning swim, but after a freshening shower she had a revival of appetite and made for the breakfast hall with some enthusiasm.
"You certainly seem to have made a full recovery!" exclaimed Mary Kay, eyeing Janet’s well-laden tray of bacon and egg.
"I begin to think that I may survive this meeting after all."
"It has been traumatic for you, with the various unpleasantnesses surrounding Karl's activities."
"And disturbing in the sense of still being largely unexplained," and she relayed the relevant parts of her discussion with Bob the night before.
"From what I hear of its toxicity, if Karl had taken proteastatin in any quantity the effects would certainly have been drastic and instantaneous," Mary Kay mused.
"What exactly did you hear about its toxicity?" asked Janet.
"Via the grape-vine from Cunningham’s group, it came across pretty clearly to me the stuff was acting much the same as DFP."
"Meaning that it reacted irreversibly at the serine of serine -proteases?"
"Yes. Apparently it forms a tight transition state complex, thus very slow to reverse, but its potent toxicity is related to two other factors I gather. As you remarked it's not very water-miscible."
"But it is fairly stable in the presence of water?"
"That's true. It could retain potency as a water emulsion. But it's because of its oily nature that it penetrate cells so fast-- goes right through the lipid membranes."
"So it would act as a contact poison?"
"Taken up through the skin, and it would quickly get to where it does the most damage-- in the brain and other nerves."
"But it acts like DFP on the nervous system by inhibiting cholinesterase?"
"Yes. It's a parasympathomimetic agent."
"My aching head!" Janet exclaimed in mock despair. "I seem to recall some of this from an undergrad course I took aeons ago in pharmacology. Anticholinesterases, eserine, muscarine, nicotine," she rhymed off.
"Some of them are still pretty important as drugs in clinical practice," Mary Kay replied. "Others of course, found more lethal applications."
"As for insecticides like malathion."
"And some of the so-called nerve gases designed for chemical warfare."
"It sounds as though proteastatin could be a pretty good candidate for one of those military applications. I gather that Margot Elster carried an atropine supply handy while she was working with it."
"The beautiful lady," mused Mary Kay.
"Meaning Margot?"
"Meaning both Margot and the antidote, atropine-- belladonna as it was referred to originally-- taken by ladies, so it was said, because of its ability to dilate the pupils and produce soft limpid eyes."
"Well, Margot dilated the pupil of many of the men about her."
"Including those of your friend, Bob Hayes. He seems to have been quite smitten by her."
"He’s protective toward her I would guess," replied Janet thoughtfully. "You know she has that defenceless quality. Fragile seeming."
"But tough underneath."
"Oh yes, she’s a survivor, that girl. I’m sure that living with Karl must have challenged her survival instincts. But she radiates that quality of frailty. And with the added vulnerability of the madonna-to-be."
"Almost irresistible to a tender-hearted fellow like Bob Hayes."
"Probably it’s one of the main reasons that I’ve escaped entanglements with the opposite sex for so long," laughed Janet.
"Well, if so our independence has protected us from the crèche, and all that that entails."
"What would be the symptoms from proteastatin poisoning then?" asked Janet, changing back to the original subject. "It would produce incordination of nerve -muscle wouldn’t it? "
"My pharmacology courses were rather long ago and far away, but as I remember that was one of the debilitating effects of the anti-cholinesterase nerve gases-- nausea, confusion, problems with speech, vision. I gather that’s one of the earliest signs."
"Yes, I seem to recall that now," said Janet with a frown of concentration. "The antidote, belladonna expands the pupil in the eye; the nerve gas itself acts in the opposite way, to cause a constriction of the pupil."
Mary Kay nodded. "Miosis, or pupillary constriction is often detected with even minimal doses of anti-cholinesterase agents, before any of the other effects on the nervous system become evident."
Janet fell silent. There was no longer any doubt in her mind. The night-mare vision of Karl’s dead face flashed vividly again, with those tiny, almost non-existent pupils staring at her in blank surprise, like two pin-holes into the blackness of his soul.
As the sun mounted in the sky and the morning mists dispelled, Janet felt her dampened spirits rising also. But the mist of mystery in her thoughts remained to obscure the rationality of events. She left the brilliant sunshine of open lawn as the morning bus departed taking Mary Kay Jacobs and other distant voyagers to make their afternoon connections. Janet waved to her friend, then entered the dappled light of the woodland pathway. There were several bifurcating trails and Janet followed the turnings and forks at random, her mind still absorbed in the puzzling features of Karl Elster’s last hours. It was with a shock of some dismay that she came upon the clearing where she had earlier discoursed with Professor Antwhistle. For there he was before her standing near the clump of trees at the farther edge, placing a ladder against one of them. She hurried up to him, hoping to avert a second fatal fall.
"I do believe that I have closed in on my quarry at last!" he enthused. "The chap at the lodge was most co-operative about the ladder. And the nest, you see, is just within reach above there." He pointed upward into a crotch of the fir-tree that supported a tangle of twigs.
"If you take the glasses," he whispered extending the binoculars to Janet, "you may note the tail of the magpie extending beyond the edge. So far at least he has made no move to leave."
The trees were short and scrubby here. With the aid of the field-glasses Janet could see clearly the large, dome-shaped basket some fifteen feet above with large glossy tail-feathers protruding from one of the entrances.
"It is a rare find in this region, outside his normal nesting area you know," burbled the Professor sotto voce, trying to restrain his excitement. In spite of ladder, or the two observers below however, the bird remained quite motionless, as though frozen within his twiggy bower. Janet had little real fascination for either birds or tree-climbing but felt that she owed it to science to make a gesture at least. Perhaps it was the awesome prospect of calamity to her departmental Head, perhaps a show of gratitude for his efforts to protect her from the ravages of the human magpie. She offered accordingly to scale the heights and report her findings.
"My dear," responded the Professor, kindly yet firmly, "this is one experiment which I must perform personally. You will however, be of inestimable value if you will maintain some solidity at the base of the ladder. I shall describe events to you, and later you may wish to ascend for a look of your own."
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br /> Janet reckoned that she would be well-satisfied with a second-hand account of the nest. Possibly its occupant would stage an attack on the intruder in defence of his violated home. How in the world, she wondered desperately, might she help to cushion the descent if the Professor were to be dislodged from the ladder? There would be but little time to react, for with startling agility John Antwhistle scaled the ladder, and, standing on the penultimate rung, brought his head up virtually level with the rear entrance to the nest. And still the long feathers remained in place, apparently undisturbed. The Professor too seemed immobilized in his place atop the ladder, then slowly and sadly he descended again. Janet could see clearly that there were tears, whether of grief or disappointment, shining in his eyes
"Poor fellow is quite dead" he said in a hollow voice. "Such a sorry find, sorry find," he repeated shaking his head.
Without further thought or discussion Janet climbed the ladder herself and confirmed the Professor's observation. The bird’s head was thrown back in a convulsive attitude. How long he had lain thus was impossible to tell. Later Janet could not recall what impelled her to refrain from reaching out to pick up the bird. She simply stared, frozen as John Antwhistle had been a few moments earlier. But even before she started back down the ladder her gaze looked earthward, and was captured by a bright glint of sun light reflected from near the base of the tree a few feet from where the Professor was standing.
"I think," she said slowly, as she warily inspected the shiny object on the ground, "that we may have discovered the key to the death of the magpie."
Death of the Magpie Page 9