Chapter 70 Green Vein Operation 3 "It's so refreshing"
The next steps were performed by a male assistant, because not only was she a little scared, but it was also not in line with her identity.
"Here's a jar of live leeches, the kind commonly used in bloodletting. You can see they're still full of life. Next, I'm going to imitate the method I proposed over a decade ago for using leeches to test for poisonous gases in mines."
The noble ladies in the front row regretted choosing such a front row seat and turned their heads away. Heather herself also quietly moved to the side, fearing that they would jump out.
"Here are two cups of freshly drawn water. For efficiency, we'll dip the edge of the darkest cloth into one of the cups. Stir it briefly, and the water will quickly turn black. This isn't surprising, as everyone knows exhaust gas is very dirty. Now, I'm going to prove that it's not only dirty, but also toxic."
Toxic? This word once again sparked heated debate. Most people didn't believe it, but they still craned their necks to look at the stage.
Heather had a male assistant pour the clear water and black water into two transparent petri dishes, then place two leeches in each. He then called over two male servants, each carrying a leech, and walked back down the aisle between the terraced seating areas. The venue was now even more crowded, with many standing in the aisle at the back, clearly drawn in by the recent commotion.
"Look at the difference between the two. If I'm not mistaken, the leech in the clear water is still alive and well, while the one in the black water will soon start twitching and die, with black particles covering its body."
Wherever the servant walked, the bravest pushed forward, while the less timid retreated. Most, however, were filled with curiosity and did not interrupt the experiment. A minute ago, the leeches in both petri dishes were moving normally at a similar rate, and there was no sound in the front row. As he reached the center and back, changes began to appear.
"Oh my God, it's really twitching!" shouted a scholar wearing glasses.
The people in the front row turned around one after another, and those in the back row were eager to squeeze forward.
The servants tried to move further back, but they were soon stuck in the middle and couldn't move because many businessmen sitting at the back couldn't wait to come up.
"Don't push, or else it will fall over and no one will be able to see." Someone shouted, but no one paid any attention to him.
"Oh my god, it really looks like it's dying."
"Oh my God, this looks like someone dying of poisoning."
The two leeches in the black water quickly gave up resistance and stopped twitching.
"Dead." "Really dead." Layers of voices spread throughout the venue.
Heather breathed a sigh of relief and signaled the male assistant to continue acting as a megaphone, this time to double the volume.
"It seems the result is as I suspected. Also, if we pour the black water into a pot of plants with strong absorbency, like cattails or reeds, and let it sit for more than three days, we'll find the dirty water in the pot becomes much clearer and the odor is reduced."
The people in the audience were still immersed in the argument about the toxicity of exhaust gas, and no one paid attention to what she said next.
A person in the front row who had not witnessed the leech's death process questioned: "What kind of joke is this and how can it be told in front of so many people? Who knows what is added to those black cloths?" There were many people who did not believe that exhaust gas was poisonous, and they all responded.
However, there were also hesitant objections. A gentleman in the last row stood up and said loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen, I live in Chelsea, a residential area, and there is also a steel plant in the industrial area. I did see the same white cloth in both places yesterday afternoon, and I thought it was very strange at the time."
A painter in the middle also stood up to testify: "Let's not discuss the authenticity of the experiment for now, but when I went to Hyde Park to sketch this morning, I did see a piece of white cloth."
Heather deliberately placed the cloth in a conspicuous place and assigned people to take turns guarding it. There were many people passing by, so naturally some people in the venue would see it.
The person who first raised the question said, "Even if the cloth is real, there might be something added to the water."
Heather was helpless. Some people were just being stubborn. "Sir, this experiment is very simple. Anyone present can go back and repeat it as I say. If I added something to the water, wouldn't it be exposed quickly?"
The man was speechless, and with an expression that showed he didn't want to talk to an ignorant woman, he sat down and said nothing more. However, most people tended to put aside their doubts about the props for the time being, and many people planned to go home and try it themselves.
Hessel continued, "If you still don't believe me, you can buy fresh sheep lungs from the butcher's, slice them up at home, and repeat the experiment using them instead of leeches. Sheep lungs function just like human lungs, and if you put them in black water, they'll turn black and ulcerate. Furthermore, there are so many workers in the East End who have contracted tuberculosis at a young age, which supports the point I've just made."
Her argument was well-reasoned, and many people were a little uneasy. The most panicked were Chelsea's new rich. After all, Chelsea's color was only slightly lighter than the industrial district, but much darker than the truly aristocratic districts and parks. Some business wives could already see their own blackened lungs and imagined themselves coughing up blood until they died.
The real old-fashioned aristocrat in the first row looked at the panic behind him and curled his lips in disdain. Anyway, he lived near Hyde Park, and didn't he see that the cloth in Hyde Park was so white that you couldn't see anything? If he had known this, he wouldn't have wasted time listening to the speech.
"What a farce," remarked a resident of Westminster. He shouted, "It seems the only audience for Madam's speech is the factory folk. We can all take our leave now."
This statement aroused the anger of the upstarts, who could only grit their teeth helplessly.
Heather nodded calmly. "Yes, if you're not interested in the sixth piece of cloth at all."
"The sixth piece of cloth?"
"That's right," Hessel said, having the last piece of cloth pushed forward. "This one has also been lying in the same spot in Westminster for forty-eight hours."
"Impossible! You're almost as dark as Chelsea." Someone questioned immediately.
Hessel placed the two Westminster cloths separately. "This one, which is almost invisible in color, was put up between noon the day before yesterday and noon today, while the other, darker one, was put up forty-eight hours earlier. Perhaps someone will notice that four days ago there was a strong northeasterly wind blowing over London, which proves that when the wind blows, industrial exhaust gases are completely carried away from these boroughs far from the factories."
"Sir, obviously industrial pollution is fair game in a sense. As long as you live in London, you can't completely escape its clutches."
"Okay everyone, my speech is over, thank you for listening."
Heather bowed slightly, then calmly walked down from the podium. She didn't return to her seat, but instead walked straight out the front door. As soon as she left, the audience lost interest in sitting quietly in their chairs, awaiting the next speech. Some rushed to the stage to get closer to the cloths, while others, from a distance, called on those they knew to gather and discuss the speech at the top of their voices.
Some people were unwilling to believe it and secretly said to their friends: "This can't be true. Maybe that lady is a witch."
Her friend quickly denied her claim: "I've seen this Mrs. Lawrence at Mr. Crawford's party. She's definitely not a witch. If you don't believe me, go back and ask Mrs. Victor. She seems to be quite familiar with Mrs. Lawrence."
Many women knew Heather, and some spoke up for her because of the aromatherapy parlor: "The essential oil made by Mrs. Lawrence is unique in London. It has relieved my headaches before. I always feel that Mrs. Lawrence is not the kind of person who speaks nonsense."
The men didn't care much about Heather. They were all discussing the authenticity of the experiment and the livability ranking of each district. Occasionally someone mentioned her, but was quickly passed over by the people next to them, who told him that it was not important and that the lady might have obtained it from a man who was devoted to research and did not want to show up.
As soon as Heather walked out of the venue, she couldn't help but jog. She ran along the corridor to an empty railing and waited for Mary to come to her.
Mary soon appeared breathless. "Aunt, you are amazing! I dare say that the last sentence shocked all the ladies around me speechless. With so many people questioning you, you were not afraid at all."
Heather looked up at the sky and said, "I was scared. I was holding on to the small podium with my hands the whole time. If there wasn't something blocking it, I'm afraid everyone below would have seen my legs shaking."
Mary was skeptical: "Really? But you look so happy."
Heather then realized that she was laughing, almost unconsciously, a genuinely happy laugh. "Phew, well, that feels so good. It feels like I just did something really crazy, and the adrenaline is still pumping. But honestly, I'm really scared that someone's going to come home and question me after today."
"No." A voice interrupted.
Hazel turned around and saw Dorothea following her out.
"I've basically verified the experiments you gave me earlier. I've already written the article and will submit it to the newspaper in a couple of days."
The experiment proved that it was not surprising. Heisel was only at the undergraduate level, and the experiments he could remember were not very advanced.
"But did you finish the article so quickly? Is there someone specifically responsible for writing it?" Heather was curious.
Dorothea shook her head. "I'm responsible for organizing the written materials. I don't need help with an article for the newspaper." She turned to look at the flowers beyond the railing and added, "The byline will be Dorotheus, which is similar to my real name, so the effect may not be as you expect. Of course, you can also add your name."
"No, I don't want to become the sole focus of controversy. It's okay. Any change of mind is accomplished gradually. Even if I use the last name Banks, it won't be accepted immediately. Use whatever you want."
"Well, I don't want to use that last name to cover up my first name," she said calmly. "But someone will definitely see it once it's posted. I suspect that for a long time after today, those people will only argue among themselves about the conclusions themselves and won't care about you being the first to propose them. So, no one will come to your door specifically. The most you'll have to do is deal with some invitations from the ladies."
Heather: "That's great. I've been so nervous these past few days that I haven't been able to eat. I've been stuck in the study all day. I need a good rest. I can't stand arguing with people every day. Let's go home and get some sleep!"
Dorothea took a while to turn around and look at the backs of the two of them as they left. Only when the figures completely disappeared behind the corner did she turn around and walk back.
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