"I will take that risk!" The Doctor smiled, and an expression akin to weariness passed over his countenance. "You have said that, in your belief, as early as 1873, I knew of the bacillus of diphtheria, and that I inoculated my wife with it. You are right, but, nevertheless, you are mistaken when you say that she died from that malady. I must go further back, and tell you that the main source of my knowledge has been some very ancient hieroglyphical writings, which recorded what was known upon the subject by the priests of centuries ago. Much that is novel to-day, was very well understood in those times. The germ theory of disease was thoroughly worked out to a point far in advance of what has yet been accomplished in this era. The study required to translate and comprehend the cabalistic and hieroglyphical records has been very great, and it was essential that I should test each step experimentally. About the time of Mabel's death I had discovered the germ of diphtheria, but I found that my experiments with the lower animals were very unsatisfactory, owing to the fact that it does not affect them and human beings in a precisely similar manner. I therefore risked inoculating my wife."
"That was a hideous thing to do," ventured Mr. Barnes.
"From your standpoint, perhaps you are right. But I am a unique man, occupying a unique position in the world. To me alone was it given to resurrect the buried wisdom of the past. Even if I had known that the experiment might be attended by the death of my wife, whom I loved dearer than myself, I still would not have been deterred. Science transcended everything in my mind. Death must come to us all, and a few years difference in the time of its arrival is surely immaterial, and not to be weighed against the progress of scientific research. But I was confident that the disease, thus transmitted, would not prove fatal. That is, I was sure that I could effect a cure."
"But it seems that you did not do so. The woman died."
"She died from poison. I carefully attended her during her attack of diphtheria, until an unlooked-for accident occurred. I became ill myself. It was not an ailment of any consequence, but I felt that it would be safer to call in assistance, and I placed the case in the hands of Dr. Fisher. He afterwards stupidly called in Dr. Meredith. However, despite their old fogy methods, she made a good rally and was on the safe side of the crisis, when that hypodermic case was left temptingly within her reach. I think now that she shammed sleep, in order to distract my attention from her. Morphine habitués are very cunning in obtaining their coveted drug. However that may be, I was suddenly aroused to the fact that there was a movement in the bed, and turning my head, I saw her pushing the needle of the syringe under her flesh. I sprang up and hastened to her, but she had made the injection, and dropped back to the pillows, when I reached her. She had not withdrawn the needle, and I was in the act of doing that, when the nurse entered."
"Then you adhere to the story which you told upon the stand?"
"Certainly! It is the truth!"
"But, Doctor," said Mr. Barnes, "you have not, even yet, proven that she did not die of diphtheria."
"She did not! I tell you it was the morphine that deprived her of life. I know it! She died of poison! There is no question about that!"
Thus the Doctor, though admitting that he had produced the diphtheria, persistently asseverated that Mabel had not succumbed to its influence. Thus is explained his not advancing the theory of diphtheria as a cause of death, when arranging his defence, at the trial. To have escaped the gallows in that manner, would have been to burden his conscience with the murder of the woman whom he loved, for if she died of diphtheria, while he must have escaped conviction by the jury, he would know within his own heart that it was his hand that deprived her of life. Mr. Barnes replied: