“That, senor, is your affair,” returned the Spaniard, phlegmatically, shrugging his shoulders. “You will do with me as you please.”
And so saying, he glided from the room.
Ellen again and again entreated her husband not to proceed in his experiment; but he had long made up his mind that it was perfectly safe, and he could not be persuaded. To her gentle: spirit, the whole idea seemed horrible in the extreme; but her greatest dread was that it might be attended with danger to the subject. Haldane, however, assured her that this was impossible.
All the afternoon Haldane and Baptisto were together in the laboratory. A little after four o’clock, as Ellen was walking on the terrace, Haldane came to her, smiling and holding up a small vial.
“It is all over,” he said, “and the experiment is quite successful. Come and see.”
Not quite understanding him, she suffered him to lead her into the laboratory; but, on crossing the threshold, she uttered a cry of horror. Stretched on a sofa, lay Baptisto, moveless, and, to all seeming, without one breath of life. His eyes were wide open, but rayless; his jaw fixed, his face pale as grey marble; a peaceful smile, as of death itself, upon his handsome face. The light of the sun, just sinking towards the west, streamed in through the high window upon the apparently lifeless form. In the chamber itself there was a sickly smell, like that of some suffocating vapour. The whole scene would have startled and appalled even a strong man.
“Oh, George!” cried the lady, clasping her hands. “What have you done?”
“Don’t be alarmed,” was the reply, “Its all right!”
“But you said the experiment——-
“Was successful? Perfectly. There lies our poor friend, comfortably finished.”