Jezebel's Daughter

by Wilkie Collins

still showed itself with a fiery brightness in the widow's eyes. "Do you

  know what I am thinking?" Minna asked, a little timidly.

  "What is it, my dear?"

  "I think you are almost too fond of me, mamma. I shouldn't like to be the

  person who stood between me and my marriage--if _you_ knew of it."

  Madame Fontaine smiled. "You foolish child, do you take me for a

  tigress?" she said playfully. "I must have another kiss to reconcile me

  to my new character."

  She bent her head to meet the caress--looked by chance at a cupboard

  fixed in a recess in the opposite wall of the room--and suddenly checked

  herself. "This is too selfish of me," she said, rising abruptly. "All

  this time I am forgetting the bridegroom. His father will leave him to

  hear the good news from you. Do you think I don't know what you are

  longing to do?" She led Minna hurriedly to the door. "Go, my dear one--go

  and tell Fritz!"

  The instant her daughter disappeared, she rushed across the room to the

  cupboard. Her eyes had not deceived her. The key _was_ left in the lock.

  CHAPTER II

  Madame Fontaine dropped into a chair, overwhelmed by the discovery.

  She looked at the key left in the cupboard. It was of an old-fashioned

  pattern--but evidently also of the best workmanship of the time. On its

  flat handle it bore engraved the words, "Pink-Room Cupboard"--so called

  from the color of the curtains and hangings in the bedchamber.

  "Is my brain softening?" she said to herself. "What a horrible mistake!

  What a frightful risk to have run!"

  She got on her feet again, and opened the cupboard.

  The two lower shelves were occupied by her linen, neatly folded and laid

  out. On the higher shelf, nearly on a level with her eyes, stood a plain

  wooden box about two feet in height by one foot in breadth. She examined

  the position of this box with breathless interest and care--then gently

  lifted it in both hands and placed it on the floor. On a table near the

  window lay a half-finished watercolor drawing, with a magnifying glass by

  the side of it. Providing herself with the glass, she returned to the

  cupboard, and closely investigated the place on which the box had stood.

  The slight layer of dust--so slight as to be imperceptible to the

  unassisted eye--which had surrounded the four sides of the box, presented

  its four delicate edges in perfectly undisturbed straightness of line.

  This mute evidence conclusively proved that the box had not been moved

  during her quarter of an hour's absence in Mr. Keller's room. She put it

  back again, and heaved a deep breath of relief.

  But it was a bad sign (she thought) that her sense of caution had been

  completely suspended, in the eagerness of her curiosity to know if Mr.

  Keller's message of invitation referred to the wedding day. "I lose my

  best treasure," she said to herself sadly, "if I am beginning to lose my

  steadiness of mind. If this should happen again----"

  She left the expression of the idea uncompleted; locked the door of the

  room; and returned to the place on which she had left the box.

  Seating herself, she rested the box on her knee and opened it.

  Certain tell-tale indentations, visible where the cover fitted into the

  lock, showed that it had once been forced open. The lock had been

  hampered on some former occasion; and the key remained so fast fixed in

  it that it could neither be turned nor drawn out. In her newly-aroused

  distrust of her own prudence, she was now considering the serious

  question of emptying the box, and sending it to be fitted with a lock and

  key.

  "Have I anything by me," she thought to herself, "in which I can keep the

  bottles?"

  She emptied the box, and placed round her on the floor those terrible six

  bottles which had been the special subjects of her husband's

  precautionary instructions on his death-bed. Some of them were smaller

  than others, and were manufactured in glass of different colors--the six

  compartments in the medicine-chest being carefully graduated in size, so

  as to hold them all steadily. The labels on three of the bottles were

  unintelligible to Madame Fontaine; the inscriptions were written in

  barbarously abridged Latin characters.

  The bottle which was the fourth in order, as she took them out one by

  one, was wrapped in a sheet of thick cartridge-paper, covered on its

  inner side with characters written in mysterious cipher. But the label

  pasted on the bottle contained an inscription in good readable German,

  thus translated:

  "The Looking-Glass Drops. Fatal dose, as discovered by experiment on

  animals, the same as in the case of 'Alexander's Wine.' But the effect,

  in producing death, more rapid, and more indistinguishable, in respect of

  presenting traces on post-mortem examination."

  The lines thus written were partially erased by strokes of the pen--drawn

  through them at a later date, judging by the color of the ink. In the

  last blank space left at the foot of the label, these words were

  added--also in ink of a fresher color:

  "After many patient trials, I can discover no trustworthy antidote to

  this infernal poison. Under these circumstances, I dare not attempt to

  modify it for medical use. I would throw it away--but I don't like to be

  beaten. If I live a little longer I will try once more, with my mind

  refreshed by other studies."

  Madame Fontaine paused before she wrapped the bottle up again in its

  covering, and looked with longing eyes at the ciphers which filled the

  inner side of the sheet of paper. There, perhaps, was the announcement of

  the discovery of the antidote; or possibly, the record of some more

  recent experiment which placed the terrible power of the poison in a new

  light! And there also was the cipher defying her to discover its secret!

  The fifth bottle that she took from the chest contained "Alexander's

  Wine." The sixth, and last, was of the well-remembered blue glass, which

  had played such an important part in the event of Mr. Keller's recovery.

  David Glenney had rightly conjectured that the label had been removed

  from the blue-glass bottle. Madame Fontaine shook it out of the empty

  compartment. The inscription (also in the German language) ran as

  follows:--

  "Antidote to Alexander's Wine. The fatal dose, in case of accident, is

  indicated by the notched slip of paper attached to the bottle. Two fluid

  drachms of the poison (more than enough to produce death) were

  accidentally taken in my experience. So gradual is the deadly effect

  that, after a delay of thirty-six hours before my attention was called to

  the case, the administration of the antidote proved successful. The doses

  are to be repeated every three or four hours. Any person watching the

  patient may know that the recovery is certain, and that the doses are

  therefore to be discontinued, by these signs: the cessation of the

  trembling in the hands; the appearance of natural perspiration; and the

  transition from the stillness of apathy to the repose of sleep. For at

  least a week or ten days afterwards a vegetable diet, with cream, is

  necessary
as a means of completing the cure."

  She laid the label aside, and looked at the two bottles--the poison and

  the antidote--ranged together at her feet.

  "Power!" she thought, with a superb smile of triumph. "The power that I

  have dreamed of all my life is mine at last! Alone among mortal

  creatures, I have Life and Death for my servants. You were deaf, Mr.

  Keller, to my reasons, and deaf to my entreaties. What wonderful

  influence brought you to my feet, and made you the eager benefactor of my

  child? My servant Death, who threatened you in the night; and my servant

  Life, who raised you up in the morning. What a position! I stand here, a

  dweller in a populous city--and every creature in it, from highest to

  lowest, is a creature in my power!"

  She looked through the window of her room over the houses of Frankfort.

  At last her sleepy eyes opened wide; an infernal beauty irradiated her

  face. For one moment, she stood--a demon in human form. The next, she

  suddenly changed into a timid woman, shaken in every limb by the cold

  grasp of fear.

  What influence had wrought the transformation?

  Nothing but a knock at the door.

  "Who's there?" she cried.

  The voice that answered her was the voice of Jack Straw.

  "Hullo, there, Mrs. Fontaine! Let me in."

  She placed a strong constraint on herself; she spoke in friendly tones.

  "What do you want, Jack?"

  "I want to show you my keys."

  "What do I care about the crazy wretch's keys?"--was the thought that

  passed through Madame Fontaine's mind, when Jack answered her from the

  outer side of the door. But she was still careful, when she spoke to him,

  to disguise her voice in its friendliest tones.

  "Excuse me for keeping you waiting, Jack. I can't let you in yet."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I am dressing. Come back in half an hour; and I shall be glad to

  see you."

  There was no reply to this. Jack's step was so light that it was

  impossible to hear, through the door, whether he had gone away or not.

  After waiting a minute, the widow ventured on peeping out. Jack had taken

  himself off. Not a sign of him was to be seen, when she bent over the

  railing of the corridor, and looked down on the stairs.

  She locked herself in again. "I hope I haven't offended him!" she

  thought, as she returned to the empty medicine-chest.

  The fear that Jack might talk of what had happened to him in the

  laboratory at Wurzburg, and that he might allude to his illness in terms

  which could not fail to recall the symptoms of Mr. Keller's illness, was

  constantly present to her mind. She decided on agreeably surprising him

  by a little present, which might help her to win his confidence and to

  acquire some influence over him. As a madman lately released from Bedlam,

  it might perhaps not greatly matter what he said. But suspicion was

  easily excited. Though David Glenney had been sent out of the way, his

  aunt remained at Frankfort; and an insolent readiness in distrusting

  German ladies seemed to run in the family.

  Having arrived at these conclusions, she gave her mind again to the still

  unsettled question of the new lock to the medicine-chest.

  Measuring the longest of the bottles (the bottle containing the

  antidote), she found that her dressing case was not high enough to hold

  it, while the chest was in the locksmith's workshop. Her trunks, on the

  other hand, were only protected by very ordinary locks, and were too

  large to be removed to the safe keeping of the cupboard. She must either

  leave the six bottles loose on the shelf or abandon the extra security of

  the new lock.

  The one risk of taking the first of these two courses, was the risk of

  leaving the key again in the cupboard. Was this likely to occur, after

  the fright she had already suffered? The question was not really worth

  answering. She had already placed two of the bottles on the shelf--when a

  fatal objection to trusting the empty box out of her own possession

  suddenly crossed her mind.

  Her husband's colleagues at Wurzburg and some of the elder students, were

  all acquainted (externally, at least) with the appearance of the

  Professor's ugly old medicine-chest. It could be easily identified by the

  initials of his name, inscribed in deeply-burnt letters on the lid.

  Suppose one of these men happened to be in Frankfort? and suppose he saw

  the stolen chest in the locksmith's shop? Two such coincidences were in

  the last degree improbable--but it was enough that they were possible.

  Who but a fool, in her critical position, would run the risk of even one

  chance in a hundred turning against her? Instead of trusting the chest in

  a stranger's hands, the wiser course would be to burn it at the first

  safe opportunity, and be content with the security of the cupboard, while

  she remained in Mr. Keller's house. Arriving at this conclusion, she put

  the chest and its contents back again on the shelf--with the one

  exception of the label detached from the blue-glass bottle.

  In the preternatural distrust that now possessed her, this label assumed

  the character of a dangerous witness, if, through some unlucky accident,

  it happened to fall into the hands of any person in the house. She picked

  it up--advanced to the fireplace to destroy it--paused--and looked at it

  again.

  Nearly two doses of the antidote were still left. Who could say, looking

  at the future of such a life as hers, that she might not have some need

  of it yet--after it had already served her so well? Could she be sure, if

  she destroyed it, of remembering the instructions which specified the

  intervals at which the doses were to be given, the signs which signified

  recovery, and the length of time during which the vegetable diet was to

  be administered?

  She read the first sentences again carefully.

  "Antidote to Alexander's Wine. The fatal dose, in case of accident, is

  indicated by the notched slip of paper attached to the bottle. Two fluid

  drachms of the poison (more than enough to produce death) were

  accidentally taken in my experience. So gradual is the deadly effect

  that, after a delay of thirty-six hours before my attention was called to

  the case, the administration of the antidote proved successful. The doses

  are to be repeated----"

  The remaining instructions, beginning with this last sentence, were not

  of a nature to excite suspicion. Taken by themselves, they might refer to

  nothing more remarkable than a remedy in certain cases of illness. First

  she thought of cutting off the upper part of the label: but the lines of

  the writing were so close together, that they would infallibly betray the

  act of mutilation. She opened her dressing-case and took from it a

  common-looking little paper-box, purchased at the chemist's, bearing the

  ambitious printed title of "Macula Exstinctor, or Destroyer of

  Stains"--being an ordinary preparation, in powder, for removing stains

  from dresses, ink-stains included. The printed directions stated that the

  powder, partially dissolved in water, might also be used to erase written

 
characters without in any way injuring the paper, otherwise than by

  leaving a slight shine on the surface. By these means, Madame Fontaine

  removed the first four sentences on the label, and left the writing on it

  to begin harmlessly with the instructions for repeating the doses.

  "Now I can trust you to refresh my memory without telling tales," she

  said to herself, when she put the label back in the chest. As for the

  recorded dose of the poison, she was not likely to forget that. It was

  her medicine-measuring glass, filled up to the mark of two drachms.

  Having locked the cupboard, and secured the key in her pocket, she was

  ready for the reception of Jack. Her watch told her that the half-hour's

  interval had more than expired. She opened the door of her room. There

  was no sign of him outside. She looked over the stairs, and called to him

  softly. There was no reply; the little man's sensitive dignity had

  evidently taken offense.

  The one thing to be done (remembering all that she had to dread from the

  wanton exercise of Jack's tongue) was to soothe his ruffled vanity

  without further delay. There would be no difficulty in discovering him,

  if he had not gone out. Wherever his Mistress might be at the moment,

  there he was sure to be found.

  Trying Mrs. Wagner's room first, without success, the widow descended to

  the ground floor and made her way to the offices. In the private room,

  formerly occupied by Mr. Engelman, David Glenney's aunt was working at

  her desk; and Jack Straw was perched on the old-fashioned window-seat,

  putting the finishing touches to Minna's new straw hat.

  CHAPTER III

  In the gloom thrown over the household by Mr. Engelman's death, Mrs.

  Wagner, with characteristic energy and good sense, had kept her mind

  closely occupied. During the office hours, she studied those details of

  the business at Frankfort which differed from the details of the business

  in London; and soon mastered them sufficiently to be able to fill the

  vacancy which Mr. Engelman had left. The position that he had held

  became, with all its privileges and responsibilities, Mrs. Wagner's

  position--claimed, not in virtue of her rank as directress of the London

  house, but in recognition of the knowledge that she had specially

  acquired to fit her for the post.

  Out of office-hours, she corresponded with the English writer on the

  treatment of insane persons, whose work she had discovered in her late

  husband's library, and assisted him in attracting public attention to the

  humane system which he advocated. Even the plan for the employment of

  respectable girls, in suitable departments of the office, was not left

  neglected by this indefatigable woman. The same friendly consideration

  which had induced her to spare Mr. Keller any allusion to the subject,

  while his health was not yet completely restored, still kept her silent

  until time had reconciled him to the calamity of his partner's death.

  Privately, however, she had caused inquiries to be made in Frankfort,

  which would assist her in choosing worthy candidates for employment, when

  the favorable time came--probably after the celebration of Fritz's

  marriage--for acting in the interests of the proposed reform.

  "Pray send me away, if I interrupt you," said Madame Fontaine, pausing

  modestly on the threshold before she entered the room. She spoke English

  admirably, and made a point of ignoring Mrs. Wagner's equally perfect

  knowledge of German, by addressing her always in the English language.

  "Come in by all means," Mrs. Wagner answered. "I am only writing to David

  Glenney, to tell him (at Minna's request) that the wedding-day is fixed."

  "Give your nephew my kind regards, Mrs. Wagner. He will be one of the

  party at the wedding, of course?"