principle of gravitation. Nero's dinner shall transform Nero into the
mildest of men before he has done digesting it, and the morning draught
of Alexander the Great shall make Alexander run for his life at the
first sight of the enemy the same afternoon. On my sacred word of
honour it is lucky for Society that modern chemists are, by
incomprehensible good fortune, the most harmless of mankind. The mass
are worthy fathers of families, who keep shops. The few are
philosophers besotted with admiration for the sound of their own
lecturing voices, visionaries who waste their lives on fantastic
impossibilities, or quacks whose ambition soars no higher than our
corns. Thus Society escapes, and the illimitable power of Chemistry
remains the slave of the most superficial and the most insignificant
ends.

Why this outburst? Why this withering eloquence?

Because my conduct has been misrepresented, because my motives have
been misunderstood. It has been assumed that I used my vast chemical
resources against Anne Catherick, and that I would have used them if I
could against the magnificent Marian herself. Odious insinuations both!
All my interests were concerned (as will be seen presently) in the
preservation of Anne Catherick's life. All my anxieties were
concentrated on Marian's rescue from the hands of the licensed imbecile
who attended her, and who found my advice confirmed from first to last
by the physician from London. On two occasions only--both equally
harmless to the individual on whom I practised--did I summon to myself
the assistance of chemical knowledge. On the first of the two, after
following Marian to the inn at Blackwater (studying, behind a
convenient waggon which hid me from her, the poetry of motion, as
embodied in her walk), I availed myself of the services of my
invaluable wife, to copy one and to intercept the other of two letters
which my adored enemy had entrusted to a discarded maid. In this case,
the letters being in the bosom of the girl's dress, Madame Fosco could
only open them, read them, perform her instructions, seal them, and put
them back again by scientific assistance--which assistance I rendered
in a half-ounce bottle. The second occasion, when the same means were
employed, was the occasion (to which I shall soon refer) of Lady
Glyde's arrival in London. Never at any other time was I indebted to
my Art as distinguished from myself. To all other emergencies and
complications my na