The Novel of the White Powder | Page 4

give any information.
"You have been sending that in to Mr. Leicester for some weeks, I
think, on my prescription," said the doctor, giving the old man a
pencilled scrap of paper.
The chemist put on his great spectacles with trembling uncertainty, and
held up the paper with a shaking hand
"Oh, yes," he said, "I have very little of it left; it is rather an uncommon
drug, and I have had it in stock some time. I must get in some more, if
Mr. Leicester goes on with it."
"Kindly let me have a look at the stuff," said Haberden, and the chemist
gave him a glass bottle. He took out the stopper and smelt the contents,
and looked strangely at the old man.
"Where did you get this?" he said, "and what is it? For one thing, Mr.
Sayce, it is not what I prescribed. Yes, yes, I see the label is right
enough, but I tell you this is not the drug."
"I have had it a long time," said the old man in feeble terror; "I got it
from Burbage's in the usual way. It is not prescribed often, and I have
had it on the shelf for some years. You see there is very little left."

"You had better give it to me," said Haberden. "I am afraid something
wrong has happened."
We went out of the shop in silence, the doctor carrying the bottle neatly
wrapped in paper under his arm.
"Dr. Haberden," I said, when we had walked a little way--"Dr.
Haberden."
"Yes," he said, looking at me gloomily enough.
"I should like you to tell me what my brother has been taking twice a
day for the last month or so."
"Frankly, Miss Leicester, I don't know. We will speak of this when we
get to my house."
We walked on quickly without another word till we reached Dr.
Haberden's. He asked me to sit down, and began pacing up and down
the room, his face clouded over, as I could see, with no common fears.
"Well," he said at length, "this is all very strange; it is only natural that
you should feel alarmed, and I must confess that my mind is far from
easy. We will put aside, if you please, what you told me last night and
this morning, but the fact remains that for the last few weeks Mr.
Leicester has been impregnating his system with a drug which is
completely unknown to me. I tell you, it is not what I ordered; and what
the stuff in the bottle really is remains to be seen."
He undid the wrapper, and cautiously tilted a few grains of the white
powder on to a piece of paper, and peered curiously at it.
"Yes," he said, "it is like the sulphate of quinine, as you say; it is flaky.
But smell it."
He held the bottle to me, and I bent over it. It was a strange, sickly
smell, vaporous and overpowering, like some strong anaesthetic.

"I shall have it analysed," said Haberden; "I have a friend who has
devoted his whole life to chemistry as a science. Then we shall have
something to go upon. No, no; say no more about that other matter; I
cannot listen to that; and take my advice and think no more about it
yourself."
That evening my brother did not go out as usual after dinner.
"I have had my fling," he said with a queer laugh, "and I must go back
to my old ways. A little law will be quite a relaxation after so sharp a
dose of pleasure," and he grinned to himself, and soon after went up to
his room. His hand was still all bandaged.
Dr. Haberden called a few days later.
"I have no special news to give you," he said. "Chambers is out of town,
so I know no more about that stuff than you do. But I should like to see
Mr. Leicester, if he is in."
"He is in his room," I said; "I will tell him you are here."
"No, no, I will go up to him; we will have a little quiet talk together. I
dare say that we have made a good deal of fuss about a very little; for,
after all, whatever the powder may be, it seems to have done him
good."
The doctor went upstairs, and standing in the hall I heard his knock,
and the opening and shutting of the door; and then I waited in the silent
house for an hour, and the stillness grew more and more intense as the
hands of the clock crept round. Then there sounded from above the
noise of a door shut sharply, and the doctor was coming down the stairs.
His