ctions to Emil Einstein. The boy had nothing special to report.
But the crafty pharmacist well knew how to reach the softest spot
of the young Hebrew's indurated heart.

"See here," he said, as he drew the boy into a dark corner. "After
all said and done, your mother is the only human being in the world
that I trust. For Leah has always been true to me. I'm getting
a bit old. I'm going to settle down after I've made this trip. If
you watch my interests while I'm away, your mother may have a home
for life with me, in charge of my home; and you, you young rascal,
I'll push your fortune. So, a shut mouth; look out and don't babble
to Lilienthal. He is a chatterer. Timmins, here, is a drunken
loafer, and will burn the block up some night, but I need him a
little while yet.

"I may even give you this place, and set you up with a good
pharmacist, if I can find a man over there. Timmins can show him
the secret side of the business; then, we can throw this London
cockney out, and you'll find Magdal's to be a gold mill. I shall
have something else to do, my boy. Now, be off with my traps."

"Take them to 192 Layte Street. Ring the front bell three times;
you'll find your mother there. Give her the traps, but do not enter
the house. She will tell you anything I wish to-morrow; and, so,
remember I can make your fortune. Obey your mother; there's one
thing about her, she has got some head and heart." The boy hastened
away on his quest.

Fritz Braun, left alone, stooped and picked up a little piece of
paper which had fluttered down on the floor at his feet. He was
careful to "leave no black plume as a token."

And now there was not a vestige left of his past nefarious traffic.
"Timmins can do no harm now," sneeringly laughed Fritz Braun. "For
I carry these things in my head, and he must trust to some member of
the craft. What blockheads these fat-witted English practitioners
are."

Braun's hollow laugh echoed from behind the flowing false beard,
as he read over the faded prescriptions he had idly picked up. It
was a powerful agent of evil--a tool of the deadly thug.

"By God! I may need this old friend. How did I come to forget it?
It may purchase my safety, or else give some poor devil peace and
rest."

"My last appearance on any stage," he muttered, as his hands were
soon busied with the familiar phials around him. "I'll have a few
doses of this 'Sinner's Friend' with me," he muttered. "Who knows
where I may not