"A remedy from the French Codex, composed,
if I remember rightly, of one part phosphorus and fifty parts
sulphuric ether. Phosphorus is often given as a remedy for loss of
nerve power, neuralgia, hysteria, and melancholia. In quantities
from a fiftieth to a tenth or so of a grain free phosphorus is a
renovator of nerve tissue and nerve force, a drug for intense and
long-sustained anxiety of mind and protracted emotional
excitement--in short, for fast living."
He uncorked the bottle, and we tasted the stuff. It was unpleasant
and nauseous. "I don't see why it wasn't used in the form of
pills. The liquid form of a few drops on gum arabic is hopelessly
antiquated."
The elevator door opened with a clang, and a well-built, athletic
looking man of middle age with an acquired youngish look about his
clothes and clean-shaven face stepped out. His face was pale, and
his hand shook with emotion that showed that something had
unstrung his usually cast-iron nerves. I recognised Burke Collins
at once.
In spite of his nervousness he strode forward with the air of a
man accustomed to being obeyed, to having everything done for him
merely because he, Burke Collins, could afford to pay for it and
it was his right.
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