"Arthur C. Doyle - The Poison Belt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clarke Arthur C)

his brown hand upon the shoulder of Summerlee. I was lying back
in an armchair, an extinguished cigarette between my lips, in
that sort of half-dazed state in which impressions become
exceedingly distinct. It may have been a new phase of the
poisoning, but the delirious promptings had all passed away and
were succeeded by an exceedingly languid and, at the same time,
perceptive state of mind. I was a spectator. It did not seem to
be any personal concern of mine. But here were three strong men
at a great crisis, and it was fascinating to observe them.
Challenger bent his heavy brows and stroked his beard before he
answered. One could see that he was very carefully weighing his words.

"What was the last news when you left London?" he asked.

"I was at the _Gazette_ office about ten," said I. "There was a
Reuter just come in from Singapore to the effect that the
sickness seemed to be universal in Sumatra and that the
lighthouses had not been lit in consequence."

"Events have been moving somewhat rapidly since then," said
Challenger, picking up his pile of telegrams. "I am in close
touch both with the authorities and with the press, so that news
is converging upon me from all parts. There is, in fact, a
general and very insistent demand that I should come to London;
but I see no good end to be served. From the accounts the
poisonous effect begins with mental excitement; the rioting in
Paris this morning is said to have been very violent, and the
Welsh colliers are in a state of uproar. So far as the evidence
to hand can be trusted, this stimulative stage, which varies
much in races and in individuals, is succeeded by a certain
exaltation and mental lucidity--I seem to discern some signs of
it in our young friend here--which, after an appreciable
interval, turns to coma, deepening rapidly into death. I fancy,
so far as my toxicology carries me, that there are some
vegetable nerve poisons----"

"Datura," suggested Summerlee.
"Excellent!" cried Challenger. "It would make for scientific
precision if we named our toxic agent. Let it be daturon. To
you, my dear Summerlee, belongs the honour--posthumous, alas, but
none the less unique--of having given a name to the universal
destroyer, the Great Gardener's disinfectant. The symptoms of
daturon, then, may be taken to be such as I indicate. That it
will involve the whole world and that no life can possibly
remain behind seems to me to be certain, since ether is a
universal medium. Up to now it has been capricious in the places
which it has attacked, but the difference is only a matter of a
few hours, and it is like an advancing tide which covers one
strip of sand and then another, running hither and thither in
irregular streams, until at last it has submerged it all. There