The Perfect Poison by Amanda Quick Page B

will likely go insane.”
    “A most dangerous poison, indeed.” She pondered the information. “But you say it works?”
    He hesitated, looking very much as if he wanted to deny the truth.
    “Evidently,” he said finally. “Although to what extent and for what period of time are open questions. No one who has taken the drug has ever lived long enough to supply us with much in the way of helpful information.”
    She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “No one you know personally, you mean.”
    He shot her a sharp, searching look. “No offense, Miss Bromley, but under the circumstances, I find that a rather odd statement.”
    “What of the founder himself, Sylvester Jones?”
    Caleb appeared first startled and then, to her astonishment, he actually smiled a little. It was, she decided, a very charming smile. What a pity he did not indulge in the expression more often. Then again, they were discussing murder and other assorted subjects that did not generally elicit amusement.
    Caleb walked across the room and came to a halt directly in front of her desk. “I will tell you a Jones family secret, Miss Bromley. We are all convinced that it was probably the drug that killed our ancestor. But as he was already an old man at the time, there is no way to prove that he died of anything but natural causes.”
    “Hmm.”
    “We do know that the old alchemist was drinking the formula at the time of his death and that he expected it to add several decades to his life span. It is safe to say that the stuff did not achieve that objective but whether or not it actually killed him has never been determined.”
    “Hmm.”
    “Your interest in the subject is starting to concern me,” Caleb said dryly. “Perhaps I should remind you that we are discussing a matter that is considered by the Master and the Council to be the Society’s most closely guarded secret.”
    “Are you threatening me, Mr. Jones? If so, you will have to take your turn. At the moment I am far more concerned with the possibility of going to prison than I am with the consequences of offending the Master and the Council.”
    His mouth kicked up again at the corners and amusement glinted in his eyes. “Yes, I can see that.”
    “About Hulsey,” she prompted.
    “Right. Hulsey. As I said, he is obsessed with his research. We destroyed his old laboratory, and, as it happens, those who funded his experiments are no longer in a position to continue financing him. But I suspected that he would not remain inactive for long. It is not his nature.”
    She wondered what, exactly, had happened to Hulsey’s former financial backers but decided it would not be prudent to inquire.
    “Do you think that he has found another patron?” she asked instead.
    “Or someone involved in trying to concoct the drug has found him.”
    She understood. “Hulsey will not have hesitated to make a Faustian bargain with his new backer.”
    “Hulsey may be a modern man of science but after reading his notebooks, I can assure you that at his core he thinks like an alchemist. Some men would bargain with the devil in order to gain gold. Hulsey would sell his soul in exchange for a fully equipped laboratory.”
    “You said you were tracking Hulsey but you lost the trail?”
    He rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that underlined his frustration. “Hulsey’s notebooks listed many of the rare drugs, spices and herbs that he uses in his experiments. I have tried to keep watch on London’s apothecaries and herbalists, thinking that sooner or later he would start acquiring the items he requires. But the task has proved far beyond the scope of my small agency. Do you have any notion of how many establishments there are in this town that sell medicinal potions, herbs and spices? There are literally hundreds, if not thousands.”
    She smiled ruefully. “I recently had a similar discussion with Inspector Spellar. The number is in the thousands, sir. And you must not forget the patent