| XIV
Contradicting his most intimate hopes, Dr. Montes had
to confirm my earlier diagnosis. Mary's death was owed to strychnine
poisoning.
 Settled and authoritative, the
commissioner ordered the gendarmes to follow him.
"With your permission," he said to us,
"we'll begin the search of all of your rooms."
I approved the method. The commissioner
turned to me. "Let's begin with yours, doctor. Unless someone else
wishes to declare the possession of strychnine."
No one responded. Not even I. The
commissioner's words had humiliated me. I had never imagined that my
room would be searched.
"You should not implicate me in this
case," I said at last. "I am a doctor. . . . I demand to be respected as
such."
"I'm sorry," he replied. "The same rod for
everyone."
I believe his intention was to suggest
that his rod was not entirely metaphoric.
In spite of myself, I led them, or more
truthfully, I followed them to my room. My own Calvary awaited me there,
and likewise the satisfaction of proving the absolute dominion I have
over my nerves. Powerless, as if they had injected me with
curare,I had to tolerate those coarse hands profaning the
contents of my valise and, unspeakable!, opening one by one the vials,
as sensitive and delicate as virgins, in my medicine kit.
"Take care, gentlemen!" I exclaimed,
unable to contain myself. "You are dealing with extraordinarily pure
substances, do you understand? Any scent, any contact can destroy the
virtues of these medicines."
I achieved what I had sought. With renewed
cruelty, they dedicated themselves to the medicine kit while I slipped
between the profaners and the night table. My right hand, leaning
casually on the marble, rescued the vial of arsenic. I was disposed to
suffer any ill treatment, but not that they strip me of those droplets
that were the pillar of my health.
When the policemen finally finished
with my kit, I let the vial of arsenic fall into its place among the
others. I believed myself safe, but fate had not yet let me escape its
talons. Chilled to the soul, I heard the commissioner's order: "Now we
will proceed with a look at the pills."
I understood his uneducated
words: he referred to my droplets. I supposed, naturally, that he would
require them immediately. But Commissioner Aubry, with a lack of logic
comparable only to his lack of courtesy, moved on to Cornejo's room,
leaving me completely free to take the precautions that prudence
recommended. |
