Toxicology

"Forgive me, madame, for intruding upon you and your family," Monte Cristo said galantly, gesturing slightly towards her son, "had I knwn that M. de villefort would be absent, I should not have presumed to call." In fact the Count knew perfectly well that the man would be otherwise engaged... he had arranged it.

"No need for apology, monsieur, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she motioned for him to take the seat nearest her. "My husband has spoken to me of you, in fact you are the topic on everyone's lips. They all wonder about you."

"I fear the reality may fall short of the mystery, Madame." He replied with an assumed modesty and then fell to contemplating her in a most singular way. "Forgive me," he said when her gaze questioned his, "but I feel certain we have met before."

"Have we? But I think I would have remembered meeting someone like you," she said almost flirtatiously. "Please do have a seat," she gestured to the seat nearest her.

He sat down with a most vexed _expression on his face, as though trying to remember exactly where it was that they had met. He knew, of course, right down to the hour, the weather and the dress she had been wearing; but he wanted Mme de Villefort to be the one to make the connection. "I could have sworn...!" he exclaimed puzzled, "Are you sure you have never been to Italy, Madame?"

Mme de Villefort screwed up her face in thought. "We were in Italy just last year... but I think I would have remembered someone like you."

"Ah, you flatter me, Madame... but I fear that my face would not be so remarkable without the reputation that seems to have grow around me in Paris. Tell me, were you staying in Perugia by any chance?"

Mme de Villefort stared intently into the face of the Count of Monte Cristo. He seemed to know an awful lot about her and where she went. She had been in Perugia and the only person who stood out in her mind there had been an old Abbé who put some particular ideas in her head. "We were in Perugia, but I'm sure I don't remember you."

"But there we are!" He exclaimed as though suddenly everything became clear. "Of course, how could I have forgotten! It was on the day of Corpus Christi, in the garden of the hostelry of the Post. You were waiting for something... horses, I think... which had been delayed by the festival. Oh, how hot that day was! I had sought refuge in the arbour where you were sitting and we talked for quite some time. Do you recall?"

"Sir, you are correct about the location, but if I spoke to you it was in passing for I spent my time speaking with a most intelligent Abbé who was stopped there," she corrected him.

He gave a bow, "At your service, Madame." he said, "Most people in Perugia thought I was either an Abbé or a doctor, since my valet had fallen gravely ill and I managed to cure him. What the Perugians took as a miracle of God or medicine, was nothing more than a simple knowledge of herbs. I am only an enthusiastic amateur in both fields of study."

"That was you?" her mouth dropped open in surprise. "I would never have recognized you! I do remember our talk though, it opened my eyes to many things."

"I believe that you also are a keen amateur doctor, Madame. I hear you take care of your father-in-law. If it is not too personal, what is his complaint?"

"M. Nortier has his own servant who cares for him, not I," Mme de Villefort said haughtily. "He has had the same servant since he suffer his stroke."

He raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, Madame, but when one takes the time to study a subject as I understand you have, it is usually with an aim and, when I heard of your father-in-law's disposition, I naturally assumed... but, no matter, I was wrong. I myself studied chemistry because I had decided to live in the East and wished to follow the precautionary example of King Mithridates."

"He famously outwitted those who attempted to poison him by drinking the antidote in advance. You see, Madame, poison and medicine are the same thing. The difference is only in the dosage."

"So than is the reason!" she blurted out involuntarily. She had been trying to poison M. Nortier for weeks, but the old fool showed no signs of fading.

He pretended not to notice the indiscretion and continued as though they were still enjoying a pleasant conversation. "Yes," Monte Cristo explained, "You see on the first day you take one dose, on the second two, on the third three and so on. Fairly soon you will find yourself made only slightly unwell by a large dose of a poison that would have killed you a week ago. Such precautions are invaluable when one lives in the East, where poisons are so widely used. Of course," he added, with an off-hand manner which said: now we hypothesise... but knowing full well the effect his words would have, "It can also be an offensive tactic as well as a defensive one. One could make oneself almost immune, poison a bottle of wine and then share it with your victim safe in the knowledge that they would die, whereas you would suffer no more than stomach ache. But naturally one would need to identify the right poison."

"Of course," he replied still pretending that they were hypothesising about something neither of them would ever contemplate in reality. "But the real trick is choosing the right poison... one which leaves no trace after death."

Mme de Plougastel's eyebrows raised in antonishment, "Are there such poisons? I thought all had some tell-tale hints." An untraceable poison, were such things true?

"Ah, well now it depends on your definition of untracable. Some poisons lull a person gently to sleep, but remain in the body after death. Others produce unique, identifiable death-throes, but then some how vanish. No doctor could ever trace their existence in the corpse, so as long as no one recognises the manner of death then they are indeed untracable." He paused, as though thinking to himself, "Stryccnine, for example."

"Few poisons are really difficult to obtain. Most gardens, like your own beautiful flower borders, contain more poison than a pharmacy, if only you could extract it from the plants..." He left the sentence hanging. He certainly wasn't going to tell her how to do that. This budding Lucretia Borgia must believe that the idea was hers alone.

"It is quite amazing. I never realized that so manyhad such leathal potential so close at hand," she said reflectively. "Where ever did you come by such knowledge?"

"From an Italian Abbe," replied Monte Cristo, "He conducted his experiments with the aim of curing rare diseases, but any study of medicines uncovers the darker properties of the drugs. A doctor must know when the dose is enough and how to recognise the symptoms of an overdose."

"But as you said, an immunity can be built," Mme de Plougastel stated. "Which would require the individual to take more and more of the drug. Would an overdose even be possible in such an individual?"

"That, Madame, is not an experiment my friend conducted." Replied the count vaguely. Her questions were becoming too specific for Monte Cristo's liking.

"Hypothetically, madame? An interesting possibility, but one which must, I fear, wait until another day. I have trespassed on your time too long and I shall be late for my appointment with M. Danglars." Monte Cristo rose to leave, seeing that the seeds had been planted better than he could have hoped. "Good day, madame."