Lothian knew therefore, that Morton Sims was patiently following and extending the experiments of Professor Fraenkel at his laboratory in Halle, varying the investigation of Deléarde and carrying it much farther.
Morton Sims was introducing alcohol into rabbits and guinea pigs, sub-cutaneously or into the stomach direct, exhibiting the alcohol in well-diluted forms and over long periods. He was then inoculating these alcoholised subjects, and subjects which had not been alcoholised, with the bacilli of consumption—tubercle bacilli—and diphtheria toxin—the poison produced by the diphtheria bacillus.
He was endeavouring to obtain indisputable evidence of increased susceptibility to infection in the animal body under alcoholic influences.
Of all this, Lothian was thoroughly aware. He stood now—if indeed it was Gilbert Lothian the poet who stood there—in front of an open cupboard; the cupboard he had opened by secrecy and fraud.
Upon those shelves, as he well knew, organic poisons of immeasurable potency were resting.
In those half-dozen squat phials of glass, surrounded with felt and with curious stoppers, an immense Death was lurking.
All the quick-firing guns of the navies of the world were not so powerful as one of these little glass receptacles.
The breath came thick and fast from the intruder. It went up in clouds from his heated body; vapourised into steam which looked yellow in the candlelight.
After a minute he drew near to the cupboard.
A trembling, exploring finger pushed among the phials. It isolated one.