enough, we know how to make it deeper. We are skillful at our work; the
serpent is not more cunning, or the lion more valiant, Djalma himself
bears our mark. The array-mow is an impalpable powder, and, by letting
the sleeper inhale a few grains of it, or by mixing it with the tobacco
to be smoked by a waking man, we can throw our victim into a stupor, from
which nothing will rouse him. If we fear to administer too strong a dose
at once, we let the sleeper inhale a little at different times, and we
can thus prolong the trance at pleasure, and without any danger, as long
as a man does not require meat and drink--say, thirty or forty hours. You
see, that opium is mere trash compared to this divine narcotic. I had
brought some of this with me from Java--as a mere curiosity, you
know--without forgetting the counter poison."

"Oh! there is a counter-poison, then?" said Rodin, mechanically.

"Just as there are people quite contrary to what we are, brother of the
good work. The Javanese call the juice of this root tooboe; it dissipates
the stupor caused by the array-mow, as the sun disperses the clouds. Now,
yesterday evening, being certain of the projects of your emissary against
Djalma, I waited till the doctor was in bed and asleep. I crept into his
room, and made him inhale such a dose of array-mow--that he is probably
sleeping still."

"Miscreant!" cried Rodin, more and more alarmed by this narrative, for
Faringhea had dealt a terrible blow at the machinations of the socius and
his friends. "You risk poisoning the doctor."

"Yes, brother; just as he ran the risk of poisoning Djalma. This morning
we set out, leaving your doctor at the inn, plunged in a deep sleep. I
was alone in the carriage with Djalma. He smoked like a true Indian; some