I read this as a kid, and never forgot how perfectly it works as a short story: delineated characters, plot, twist. Today I found it again in an old newspaper from 1952. So here it is, for your enjoyment.
THE ALCHEMIST'S SECRET
by Arthur Gordon
Illustrated by Walter Richards
Sitting quietly in his crooked street in the shadow of Notre Dame, Doctor Maximus did not look like a very remarkable man. But he was. Five hundred years before, he might have busied himself changing the baser metals into gold. But in Paris of the nineties, it is said, he worked at a more subtle alchemy. He changed dreams into realities— provided, of course, you could pay.
The man who came into the gaslit shop this early October evening in 1891, was prepared to pay. He stood just inside the door, blotting his forehead with a silk handkerchief although actually the weather was rather cool. He was holding a heart-shaped package tightly under one arm. "You are Monsieur le Docteur Maximus?"
The Doctor bowed respectfully.
"I have a problem," said the visitor nervously. "I am told you might help me with it."
"Indeed?" said the Doctor mildly. "Who told you that?"
The newcomer glanced around uneasily at the dim shelves, the leathery tortoise dangling from a string, the small stuffed crocodile with its dust-filmed eyes. "Last night we had a dinner guest. A foreign diplomat. First secretary of the—"
"Ah, yes. Pechkoff. It is true I did him a small service."
"He was not very specific, you understand. But after a few glasses of cognac he talked rather freely. I got the impression…"
"Yes?"
"That if it weren't for your— er— assistance he would still be married, most unhappily, to his first wife."
Doctor Maximus took off his glasses and polished the spotless lenses. "She died, I believe, poor woman. Quite suddenly."
"Yes," said the visitor, "she did. So suddenly that there was an autopsy. But they discovered nothing wrong."
"Of course not," said Doctor Maximus, smiling gently.
"My wife," said the visitor with a certain agitation, "is a very beautiful woman. Naturally, she has many admirers. She has always ignored them until recently, but now there is one— I don't know which one— a younger man, no doubt. She admits it! She demands that I make some settlement. I will not—"
Doctor Maximus raised his hand. "The details," he murmured, "do not concern me."
The visitor's face was tight and dangerous. "I am not a man to be made a fool of!"
"No," said the Doctor, "I can see that."
"Madame," said the visitor abruptly, "is very fond of candy." He unwrapped the heart-shaped package and placed it on the counter. It was a box of chocolates. "I thought perhaps you might— ah— improve the candies at your convenience and then post them to her. She would be very pleased. I have even prepared a card to enclose." He took out a small rectangle of cardboard. On it was printed in neat capitals: From an admirer.
Doctor Maximus took the card and sighed. "My fees are not inconsiderable."
"I did not expect them to be," the visitor said stiffly. He did not flinch when the price was named. He paid it, in gold coins. He blotted his forehead once more with the silk handkerchief. "Will you be able to send the candy tonight?"
"Perhaps," said the Doctor noncommittally. "We shall see. And where should it be sent?"
"Ah, yes," said the visitor. "Of course." And he gave Madame's name and address.
Doctor Maximus wrote the information on a slip of paper. Then he scribbled three digits on another slip and handed it over. "You, sir, are customer 322. If there are any difficulties, kindly refer to that number. Not," he added, "that there will be any."
With one hand on the doorknob, the visitor hesitated. "It won't be—" he wet his lips— "it won't be painful, will it?"
"Not at all," said Dr. Maximus. He peered over his spectacles in a benign and sympathetic fashion. "You seem rather upset. Do you want me to give you something to make you sleep?"
"No, thank you," said his visitor nervously. "I have my own prescription for insomnia: a hot grog before going to bed."
"Ah, yes," said Dr. Maximus. "An excellent habit."
"Good night," said the visitor, opening the door into the narrow, ill-lit street.
"Good-bye," murmured Dr. Maximus.
Taking the box of chocolates in one hand and the slip of paper in the other, he went into the little room at the rear of the shop. From the shelf above his test tubes and retorts he took a big black book, opened it, and looked at the record of the previous transaction. There it was, entered only that afternoon in his spidery handwriting:
Customer 321. Complaint: the usual. Remedy: six drops of the elixir, to be administered in husband's hot grog at bed-time.
Dr. Maximus sighed. Then, being a man who honored his commitments, he opened the box of chocolates and went to work. There was no great rush. He would post the parcel in the morning.
In the herb shop, as in life, you got just about what you paid for. But his motto was: First come, first served.
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okay, for those interested, here is a full timeline of how we got to Count Binface:
1977: Star Wars is released, featuring, of course, Darth Vader
(Pictured: Darth Vader)
1984: Director Todd Durham releases his Star Wars parody movie, Hyperspace, featuring Darth Vader inspired villain Lord Buckethead.
(Pictured: Hyperspace poster featuring two Jawa-esque aliens flying through space in a shopping trolley.)
1987: Hyperspace is released on video in the UK, under the new title Gremloids.
(Pictured: Gremloids cover in the style of the original Star Wars poster, featuring Lord Buckethead.)
To promote the film, Mike Lee, the owner of the distributing company, ran for parliament as Lord Buckethead. He ran in Margaret Thatcher's constituency, Finchley, in order to get on TV. Lord Buckethead was representing the Gremloids party.
(Pictured: Lord Buckethead on TV with Margaret Thatcher.)
1992: Gremloids is re-released. Lord Buckethead rides again, this time against prime minister John Major in Huntingdon. (Here's a fun fact about Huntingdon: I was born there! :D) 87/92 Buckethead seems to have leaned pretty hard into the space supervillain thing, with campaign promises including 'demolish Birmingham to build a spaceport'.
(Pictured: Lord Buckethead on TV with John Major. Other notable candidates include Screaming Lord Sutch of the Monster Raving Loony Party.)
2017: comedian Jon Harvey, having recently watched Gremloids and learned of Lord Buckethead's candidacy for parliament, decides it's a great bit. He runs against Theresa May in Maidenhead. 2017 Buckethead seems to have a wackier and also more political approach, with campaign promises ranging from nonsense like 'nationalise Adele' to gesturing at actually sensible policies with stuff like 'lower the voting age to 16 and restrict voting after age 80'.
He also made an appearance on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. As with his previous incarnation, he was a member of the Gremloids party.
(Pictured: Lord Buckethead dabbing on stage with Theresa May.)
2018: Director Todd Durham asserts his legal ownership of Lord Buckethead. Jon Harvey opted not to go to court over Buckethead and handed over the reins. Todd Durham extended an invitation to anyone who wanted to be the 'authorised' Lord Buckethead.
(Pictured: the new Lord Buckethead.)
2019: Lord Buckethead, now played by journalist David Hughes, stood against Boris Johnson in Uxbridge and South Ruislip. He ran for the Monster Raving Loony Party, the UK's pre-existing gag candidate party. He ran with a similarly silly manifesto as the 2017 incarnation, but with a bit less of a political edge. His promises included 'All doorways to be increased by 1 foot (30Â cm) in height' and 'Nigel Farage to be sold for parts'.
(Pictured: Lord Buckethead and Count Binface square up.)
Meanwhile, Jon Harvey in his new persona Count Binface, also ran against Boris Johnson. Buckethead and Binface face off! Binface ran as an independent with a manifesto once again blending silly and semi-serious promises such as 'nationalising model railways' and 'giving ÂŁ1 trillion a week to the NHS'. This was also I believe the debut of his promise to 'move the hand dryer in the men's toilet at Uxbridge's Crown and Treaty pub to a more sensible position'.
(Pictured: Count Binface presenting the offending hand dryer, inconveniently close to both the sink and the urinals.)
He has a point.
2021: Count Binface runs for the position of Mayor of London for the first time, with promises such as 'London to join the European Union'. He notably finished ahead of far right party UKIP.
2023: Count Binface runs in the Uxbridge and South Ruislip by-election following Boris Johnson's resignation. He once again gets more votes than UKIP.
May 2024: Count Binface once again runs to be Mayor of London, debuting his now iconic 'build at least one affordable house' promise. Notably, he finished ahead of far right party Britain First.
(Pictured: Count Binface with Rishi Sunak. Also pictured: Monster Raving Loony Party candidate Sir Archibald Stanton with a ventriloquist's dummy.)
July 2024: Count Binface stands in the general election, running in Richmond and Northallerton against prime minister Rishi Sunak. He debuts his promise to cap the price of 99p flakes at 99p. This is his most successful election to date with 308 votes.
(Pictured: Count Binface with Andy Burnham. Also pictured: independent candidate Robert Pownell, dressed as a fox for his own reasons.)
June 2026: Count Binface stands in the Makerfield by-election against Andy Burnham, (recently) former Mayor of Manchester running for parliament with the intention of standing in the Labour Party leadership contest.
(Pictured: Count Binface on BBC's Newsnight.)
July 2026 (this week): Count Binface announces his intention to run against Nigel Farage in the upcoming Clacton by-election. He is briefly the only other candidate in the race and by the time other candidates announce themselves the narrative of 'Nigel Farage vs Count Binface' has already bedded in. And then it was now, and then I don't know what happened.
For clarity's sake, Robert Pownall is dressed as a fox because he's an anti-fox hunting campaigner, and also he will be standing in the Farage Vs Binface election. So that's fun
To the good people of Clacton, when faced with such stupidity and ignorance, the only candidate to vote for is clear; VOTE BINFACE!!! (Or the fox fella).
With a pedigree like that, Binface is officially From The Badlands approved!
I read this as a kid, and never forgot how perfectly it works as a short story: delineated characters, plot, twist. Today I found it again in an old newspaper from 1952. So here it is, for your enjoyment.
THE ALCHEMIST'S SECRET
by Arthur Gordon
Illustrated by Walter Richards
Sitting quietly in his crooked street in the shadow of Notre Dame, Doctor Maximus did not look like a very remarkable man. But he was. Five hundred years before, he might have busied himself changing the baser metals into gold. But in Paris of the nineties, it is said, he worked at a more subtle alchemy. He changed dreams into realities— provided, of course, you could pay.
The man who came into the gaslit shop this early October evening in 1891, was prepared to pay. He stood just inside the door, blotting his forehead with a silk handkerchief although actually the weather was rather cool. He was holding a heart-shaped package tightly under one arm. "You are Monsieur le Docteur Maximus?"
The Doctor bowed respectfully.
"I have a problem," said the visitor nervously. "I am told you might help me with it."
"Indeed?" said the Doctor mildly. "Who told you that?"
The newcomer glanced around uneasily at the dim shelves, the leathery tortoise dangling from a string, the small stuffed crocodile with its dust-filmed eyes. "Last night we had a dinner guest. A foreign diplomat. First secretary of the—"
"Ah, yes. Pechkoff. It is true I did him a small service."
"He was not very specific, you understand. But after a few glasses of cognac he talked rather freely. I got the impression…"
"Yes?"
"That if it weren't for your— er— assistance he would still be married, most unhappily, to his first wife."
Doctor Maximus took off his glasses and polished the spotless lenses. "She died, I believe, poor woman. Quite suddenly."
"Yes," said the visitor, "she did. So suddenly that there was an autopsy. But they discovered nothing wrong."
"Of course not," said Doctor Maximus, smiling gently.
"My wife," said the visitor with a certain agitation, "is a very beautiful woman. Naturally, she has many admirers. She has always ignored them until recently, but now there is one— I don't know which one— a younger man, no doubt. She admits it! She demands that I make some settlement. I will not—"
Doctor Maximus raised his hand. "The details," he murmured, "do not concern me."
The visitor's face was tight and dangerous. "I am not a man to be made a fool of!"
"No," said the Doctor, "I can see that."
"Madame," said the visitor abruptly, "is very fond of candy." He unwrapped the heart-shaped package and placed it on the counter. It was a box of chocolates. "I thought perhaps you might— ah— improve the candies at your convenience and then post them to her. She would be very pleased. I have even prepared a card to enclose." He took out a small rectangle of cardboard. On it was printed in neat capitals: From an admirer.
Doctor Maximus took the card and sighed. "My fees are not inconsiderable."
"I did not expect them to be," the visitor said stiffly. He did not flinch when the price was named. He paid it, in gold coins. He blotted his forehead once more with the silk handkerchief. "Will you be able to send the candy tonight?"
"Perhaps," said the Doctor noncommittally. "We shall see. And where should it be sent?"
"Ah, yes," said the visitor. "Of course." And he gave Madame's name and address.
Doctor Maximus wrote the information on a slip of paper. Then he scribbled three digits on another slip and handed it over. "You, sir, are customer 322. If there are any difficulties, kindly refer to that number. Not," he added, "that there will be any."
With one hand on the doorknob, the visitor hesitated. "It won't be—" he wet his lips— "it won't be painful, will it?"
"Not at all," said Dr. Maximus. He peered over his spectacles in a benign and sympathetic fashion. "You seem rather upset. Do you want me to give you something to make you sleep?"
"No, thank you," said his visitor nervously. "I have my own prescription for insomnia: a hot grog before going to bed."
"Ah, yes," said Dr. Maximus. "An excellent habit."
"Good night," said the visitor, opening the door into the narrow, ill-lit street.
"Good-bye," murmured Dr. Maximus.
Taking the box of chocolates in one hand and the slip of paper in the other, he went into the little room at the rear of the shop. From the shelf above his test tubes and retorts he took a big black book, opened it, and looked at the record of the previous transaction. There it was, entered only that afternoon in his spidery handwriting:
Customer 321. Complaint: the usual. Remedy: six drops of the elixir, to be administered in husband's hot grog at bed-time.
Dr. Maximus sighed. Then, being a man who honored his commitments, he opened the box of chocolates and went to work. There was no great rush. He would post the parcel in the morning.
In the herb shop, as in life, you got just about what you paid for. But his motto was: First come, first served.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You are not a bother. You are not a burden. You are not a waste of space. You are not annoying every person you talk to. Your existence matters. Your presence makes a good difference.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
An article I found yesterday in an old newspaper, doing some family history research. (Right county, not the right person.)
Who could look at this case and not think the cops were the ones at fault?!
What happened: the court threw out the wax charge and told them to come back for the indecency charge. The couple had gone hiking in Scotland, presumably to get some privacy, so they didn't get the letters. They read about it in the newspaper and came back. The magistrates bound them over to keep the peace. I expect they rolled their eyes a bit.
(Also, that's an unfortunate placement of the next article.)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
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