I remember also having heard a distinguished French traveller--whose
veracity was unquestionable--say, that he had witnessed extraordinary
effects produced on the sensorium by certain fumigations used by an
African pretender to magic. A person, of however healthy a brain;
subjected to the influence of these fumigations, was induced to believe
that he saw the most frightful apparitions.

However extraordinary such effects, they were not incredible,--not at
variance with our notions of the known laws of nature. And to the vapour
or the odours which a powder applied to a lamp had called forth, I was,
therefore, prepared to ascribe properties similar to those which Bacon's
conjecture ascribed to the witches' ointment, and the French traveller to
the fumigations of the African conjuror.

But, as I came to that conclusion, I was seized with an intense curiosity
to examine for myself those chemical agencies with which Sir Philip Derval
appeared so familiar; to test the contents in that mysterious casket of
steel. I also felt a curiosity no less eager, but more, in spite of
myself, intermingled with fear, to learn all that Sir Philip had to
communicate of the past history of Margrave. I could but suppose that the
young man must indeed be a terrible criminal, for a person of years so
grave, and station so high, to intimate accusations so vaguely dark, and
to use means so extraordinary, in order to enlist my imagination rather
than my reason against a youth in whom there appeared none of the signs
which suspicion interprets into guilt.

While thus musing, I lifted my eyes and saw Margrave himself there at
the threshold of the ballroom,--there, where Sir Philip had first pointed
him out as the criminal he had come to L---- to seek and disarm; and
now, as then, Margrave was the radiant centre of a joyous group. Not the