He still proposed to write a book that he had already spoken of in France to Rouletabille, to prove the truth of "Empiric Treatment of Medicinal Herbs, the Science of Alchemy, and the Ancient Experiments in Sorcery." Between times he continued to cure anyone who applied to him, and the police in particular.The police guards protected him and used him.He had splendid plasters for them after "the scandal," as they called the October riots.So when the doctors of the quarter tried to prosecute him for illegal practice, a deputation of police-guards went to Koupriane, who took the responsibility and discontinued proceedings against him.They regarded him as under protection of the saints, and Alexis soon came to be regarded himself as something of a holy man.He never failed every Christmas and Easter to send his finest images to Rouletabille, wishing him all prosperity and saying that if ever he came to St.Petersburg he should be happy to receive him at Aptiekarski-Pereoulok, where he was established in honest labor.
Pere Alexis, like all the true saints, was a modest man.
When Alexis had recovered a little from his emotion Rouletabille said to him:
"Pere Alexis, I do bring you poison again, but you have nothing to fear, for His Excellency the Chief of Police is with me.Here is what we want you to do.You must tell us what poison these four glasses have held, and what poison is still in this flask and this little phial.""What is that little phial?" demanded Koupriane, as he saw Rouletabille pull a small, stoppered bottle out of his pocket.
The reporter replied, "I have put into this bottle the vodka that was poured into Natacha's glass and mine and that we barely touched.""Someone has tried to poison you!" exclaimed Pere Alexis.
"No, not me," replied Rouletabille, in bored fashion."Don't think about that.Simply do what I tell you.Then analyze these two napkins, as well."And he drew from his coat two soiled napkins.
"Well," said Koupriane, "you have thought of everything.""They are the napkins the general and his wife used.""Yes, yes, I understand that," said the Chief of Police.
"And you, Alexis, do you understand?" asked the reporter."When can we have the result of your analysis?
"In an hour, at the latest."
"Very well," said Koupriane."Now I need not tell you to hold your tongue.I am going to leave one of my men here.You will write us a note that you will seal, and he will bring it to head-quarters.
Sure you understand? In an hour?"
"In an hour, Excellency."
They went out, and Alexis followed them, bowing to the floor.
Koupriane had Rouletabille get into his carriage.The young man did as he was told.One would have said he did not know where he was or what he did.He made no reply to the chief's questions.
"This Pere Alexander," resumed Koupriane, "is a character, really quite a figure.And a bit of a schemer, I should say.He has seen how Father John of Cronstadt succeeded, and he says to himself, 'Since the sailors had their Father John of Cronstadt, why shouldn't the police-guard have their Father Alexis of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok?'"But Rouletabille did not reply at all, and Koupriane wound up by demanding what was the matter with him.
"The matter is," replied Rouletabille, unable longer to conceal his anguish, "that the poison continues.""Does that astonish you?" returned Koupriane."It doesn't me."Rouletabille looked at him and shook his head.His lips trembled as he said, "I know what you think.It is abominable.But the thing I have done certainly is more abominable still.""What have you done, then, Monsieur Rouletabille?""Perhaps I have caused the death of an innocent man.""So long as you aren't sure of it, you would better not fret about it, my dear friend.""It is enough that the doubt has arisen," said the reporter, "almost to kill me;" and he heaved so gloomy a sigh that the excellent Monsieur Koupriane felt pity for the lad.He tapped him on the knee.
"Come, come, young man, you ought to know one thing by this time - 'you can't make omelettes without breaking eggs,' as they say, Ithink, in Paris."
Rouletabille turned away from him with horror in his heart.If there should be another, someone besides Michael! If it was another hand than his that appeared to Matrena and him in the mysterious night! If Michael Nikolaievitch had been innocent! Well, he would kill himself, that was all.And those horrible words that he had exchanged with Natacha rose in his memory, singing in his ears as though they would deafen him.
"Do you doubt still?" he had asked her, "that Michael tried to poison your father?"And Natacha had replied, "I wish to believe it! I wish to believe it, for your sake, my poor boy." And then he recalled her other words, still more frightful now! "Couldn't someone have tried to poison my father and not have come by the window?" He had faced such a hypothesis with assurance then - but now, now that the poison continued, continued within the house, where he believed himself so fully aware of all people and things - continued now that Michael Nikolaievitch was dead - ah, where did it come from, this poison?
- and what was it? Pere Alexis would hurry hiss analysis if he had any regard for poor Rouletabille.
For Rouletabille to doubt, and in an affair where already there was one man dead through his agency, was torment worse than death.
When they arrived at police-headquarters, Rouletabille jumped from Koupriane's carriage and without saying a word hailed an empty isvotchick that was passing.He had himself driven back to Pere Alexis.His doubt mastered his will; he could not bear to wait away.Under the arch of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok he saw once more the man Koupriane had placed there with the order to bring him Alexis's message.The man looked at him in astonishment.
