"You know Dante's description of the Seventh Circle," suggested Percy, "and the horrors which await the rash soul of a suicide:
"When departs the fierce soul from the body, by itself
Thence torn asunder, to the seventh Gulf
By Minos doomed, into the wood it falls,
No place assigned, but where so ever
Chance hurled it."
"But that was merely the poetic utterance of a visionary mind," Dolores answered. "No one in these days believes in a God who could be guilty of such atrocious punishments for sin or error, as Dante describes; and then I contend that in many instances suicide is not a crime, it is merely a cowardly act."
"But laying aside the crime of the act, think what an uncomfortable position the poor soul may find itself in!" suggested Percy. "To go where we are not wanted or invited, in this world, is a very embarrassing situation, you know. And to suddenly thrust yourself, without an invitation, upon the exclusive society of angels—I must say I would not have the courage to do it."
"Well, of all things," said Madam Volkenburg, "if any of you ever do commit suicide, never shoot yourselves, or resort to any disgusting or painful process. I can tell you of a very swift and painless method."
"What is it?" they all asked, in chorus, fascinated, as most of us always are, by a discussion of the horrible.
All but Dolores. She already knew.
"Oh, it is a swift poison," Madam Volkenburg explained. "My husband, who was a great experimenter in the chemical world, as you perhaps know, left a package of it among his possessions. It is a white, brilliant, crystallized substance, and the smallest particle of it, the moment it mixes with the saliva of the mouth, and is swallowed, produces instant death, and there is nothing to indicate poison afterward. It cannot be detected, and it leaves the body quietly composed as if sudden sleep had overtaken it."
"Why is it not better known?" some one asked.