and besides, he was very anxious not to murder Lady Clementina in
any way that might attract public attention, as he hated the idea of
being lionised at Lady Windermere's, or seeing his name figuring in
the paragraphs of vulgar society--newspapers. He had also to think
of Sybil's father and mother, who were rather old-fashioned people,
and might possibly object to the marriage if there was anything like
a scandal, though he felt certain that if he told them the whole
facts of the case they would be the very first to appreciate the
motives that had actuated him. He had every reason, then, to decide
in favour of poison. It was safe, sure, and quiet, and did away
with any necessity for painful scenes, to which, like most
Englishmen, he had a rooted objection.

Of the science of poisons, however, he knew absolutely nothing, and
as the waiter seemed quite unable to find anything in the library
but Ruff's Guide and Bailey's Magazine, he examined the book-shelves
himself, and finally came across a handsomely-bound edition of the
Pharmacopoeia, and a copy of Erskine's Toxicology, edited by Sir
Mathew Reid, the President of the Royal College of Physicians, and
one of the oldest members of the Buckingham, having been elected in
mistake for somebody else; a contretemps that so enraged the
Committee, that when the real man came up they black-balled him
unanimously. Lord Arthur was a good deal puzzled at the technical
terms used in both books, and had begun to regret that he had not
paid more attention to his classics at Oxford, when in the second
volume of Erskine, he found a very interesting and complete account
of the properties of aconitine, written in fairly clear English. It
seemed to him to be exactly the poison he wanted. It was swift--
indeed, almost immediate, in its effect--perfectly painless, and
when taken in the form of a gelatine capsule, the mode recommended