their different organisation might put the poisoner's science in the
wrong--but as before upon human subjects; as before, a 'corpus vili' was
taken. The marquise had the reputation of a pious and charitable lady;
seldom did she fail to relieve the poor who appealed: more than this,
she took part in the work of those devoted women who are pledged to the
service of the sick, and she walked the hospitals and presented wine
and other medicaments. No one was surprised when she appeared in her
ordinary way at l'Hotel-Dieu. This time she brought biscuits and cakes
for the convalescent patients, her gifts being, as usual, gratefully
received. A month later she paid another visit, and inquired after
certain patients in whom she was particularly interested: since the last
time she came they had suffered a relapse--the malady had changed in
nature, and had shown graver symptoms. It was a kind of deadly fatigue,
killing them by a slows strange decay. She asked questions of the
doctors but could learn nothing: this malady was unknown to them, and
defied all the resources of their art. A fortnight later she returned.
Some of the sick people were dead, others still alive, but desperately
ill; living skeletons, all that seemed left of them was sight, speech,
and breath. At the end of two months they were all dead, and the
physicians had been as much at a loss over the post-mortems as over the
treatment of the dying.

Experiments of this kind were reassuring; so Lachaussee had orders to
carry out his instructions. One day the civil lieutenant rang his bell,
and Lachaussee, who served the councillor, as we said before, came up
for orders. He found the lieutenant at work with his secretary, Couste
what he wanted was a glass of wine and water. In a moment Lachaussee
brought it in. The lieutenant put the glass to his lips, but at the
first sip pushed it away, crying, "What have you brought, you wretch? I
believe you want to poison me." Then handing the glass to his secretary,
he added, "Look at it, Couste: what is this stuff?" The secretary put
a few drops into a coffee-spoon, lifting it to his nose and then to
his mouth: the drink had the smell and taste of vitriol. Meanwhile
Lachaussee went up to the secretary and told him he knew what it must
be: one of the councillor's valets had taken a dose of medicine that
morning, and without noticing he must have brought the very glass his
companion had used. Saying this, he took the glass from the