The Poison Duel 6#: The Poisoned Draught October 5, 2014
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
There follows a story that appeared during research into poison duels. As with many duel stories it is thrilling: ref Hartlepool Mail, 18 Dec 1888, 4.
Herr Karl von Krulhanser— the Professor, he was called— was an eccentric man of science. With the exception of a few students, to whom he gave private lessons, he received no visitors, and had no associates. His daughter Mary, it was universally agreed, was an angel, and a very arch one at that. I am not going to tell you how pretty she was; but just do your best to fancy the utmost perfection of incipient womanhood, and you are blessed with a fair share of the poetic element, you may reach some conception of the truth. Among the Professor’s pupils were my friend Max Oppenheim and myself—at least, I was Max’s friend. I believe he was nobody’s,though then I thought differently. I fell dead in love with Mary, and made Max my confidant, and finally spoke to her father. The Professor heard the proposal with a serious look. ‘Have you the means to support a wife?’ he asked. My resources, I was obliged to confess, were mainly prospective and wholly contingent. ‘I am already old,’ he continued, ‘and the small annuity which barely suffices for present needs will end with my life. My daughter, therefore, will inherit no fortune, which renders it all the more important that consent should only be given to such a union as will render her future assured. Mary is yet too young to marry, but if at the end two years you shall be in a position to warrant a renewal of your offer, and shall not have changed your mind, I will give you an answer. My resolution was taken. I bade farewell to my friend,whose languid ‘God speed’’ had little of fervour in it, compared with the worthy Professor’s parting benediction, or with darling Mary’s simple ‘good-bye,’ spoken smilingly through her tears, and which I could only answer a silent pressure of her tiny white hand. At the end of two years—two years of toil and adventure in the wild and newly-discovered gold regions of Australia—l returned rich and more than rich enough to justify me in demanding tho Professor’s answer. Max Oppenheim was the first acquaintance I met. it may be imagined with what eagerness I hastened to tell him of the happy change in my fortunes. He seemed less apathetic than usual. Indeed, the news seemed to quite interest him. ‘But your treasure—in what shape have you brought it home?’ he asked. ‘In good bank notes’ I answered, giving my breast pocket a slap; ‘I have them here.’ ‘A very careless way of carrying much money,’ he remarked. Max spent the evening at my lodgings. I went to bed soon after he left, placing the wallet containing my money under the pillow It was broad daylight when awoke. The door my room stood partially ajar. I was certain I had closed and locked it before retiring. My first thought was of my money. It was gone. It was but too evident that I had been robbed during my sleep. A skeleton key still remained the lock, but no other trace the criminal was left. once called the Professor. The old man received me cordially. He listened to my story with a grave face, and was very particular in his inquiries touching the companions I had spent the previous evening with, and who had knowledge of my being in possession of a sum so considerable. ‘It a hard case,’ he added. ‘l am not quite prepared to return the answer I promised two years ago. Call at eight o’clock this evening, and I will be ready to give it.’ ‘But Mary,’ I mustered courage to ask; ‘could I see her for moment?’ “She has gone out for the day,’ he answered. I made known my loss to the police, and spent the day making such measures for the recovery of property as seemed to promise any hope of success. At the appointed hour I was ushered into the Professor’s study. To my surprise, Max Oppenheim, whom, singularly enough, I had not seen during the day, was there before me. I was about to inform him of my loss, but the Professor, he said, had already told him. ‘You have come opportunely, sir,’ said the latter, addressing himself to me. ” This gentleman,’ with gesture towards my friend, ‘has just honoured me with an important proposal— no less, indeed, than an offer for my daughter’s hand. Being a man of rank and fortune, his proposal demands at least some serious consideration.’ ‘And it is you, wretch,’ I exclaimed, casting a furious look Max, ‘that have dared to take advantage my misfortune to supplant that wherein you had my confidence.’ Hot words followed, ending in a challenge. ‘Come, gentlemen,’ said the old Professor, ‘I have proposition to make,’ and passed into adjoining apartment. After a brief absence he returned, bearing a salver on which were a couple glasses filled with some liquid. ‘There,’ he continued, ‘are two glasses of wine.’ In one of them is a subtle and tasteless poison. He who drinks will experience no pain, but will, within an hour’s time, sink into a calm and peaceful slumber, from which there will be no waking. Let each drink the contents of one these glasses. To the survivor I pledge the gift of my daughter’s hand. All traces of the other’s remains I have in my laboratory the means of speedily destroying, and the secret of his disappearance need never be known.’ ‘I accept the test!’ I exclaimed. Max hesitated. ‘Why not settle our differences in the usual mode’ he expostulated. ‘Cowards may fight duels,’ I replied, ‘confiding in superior skill, and schooled custom. To face death in a new shape requires courage. If you have a spark of it, which I doubt, do not waver. Take your choice.’ His face was ghastly pale, but his pride was stronger than fear. With an almost tottering step he approached the table and took up one of the glasses. I took the other. Simultaneously we raised them to our lips and drank off the contents. The Professor at once conducted us to separate rooms, saying, as he did so, an hour would tell. Left to myself I began closely to study my sensations. At length a feeling of drowsiness began to steal over me. I could not shake it off. My eyelids grew heavy, and a numbness pervaded my members. I could not be mistaken. It was I that had drank from the poisoned cup. Dragging with my little remaining strength to a couch that stood near, and with Mary’s name on my lips, I fell asleep. The sun was shining brightly when a voice recalled to consciousness. If I was dead I had gone heaven, and there stood an angel. I wasn’t dead after all. It was darling little Mary. Goodness knows how many foolish things I would have said, or how many kisses I would have snatched if the old Professor hadn’t made his appearance just then. With an air of mystery he led me to his study, and handed me the lost wallet, its contents intact. ‘Before making my singnlar proposal last night,’ said the Professor, ‘I had reason to suspect that your friend was not altogether innocent of your loss, not from motives of gain, but from a desire to blast your hopes in quarter I will not mention. Both the glasses contained a powerful, but harmless, sleeping potion, and when Max felt himself growing drowsy, believing his doom was sealed, he summoned me to hear a confession, of which yon have reaped the fruits. He has already gone, never to return.’ What the Professor’s answer was to my proposal of two years, and what came of it I leave the reader to guess.
Other poison duel fictions… drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com
