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neighborhood. In the dusk of the evening he drove up to Darley Champers'
office in Wykerton. As he was hitching his team Rosie Gimpke rushed out of
the side street and lunged across to the hitching post.

"Oh, Doctor Carey, coom queek mit me," she exclaimed in a whisper. "Coom,
I just got here from Mis' Aydelot's. They mak' me coom home to work at
the Wyker House, ant a man get hurt bad in there. Coom, do coom," she
urged in a frenzy of eagerness.

"What's the trouble?" Dr. Carey asked.

"Coom. I show you. I 'fraid the man coom back and finish heem. Don't make
no noise, but coom." Rosie was clutching hard at Dr. Carey's arm as she
whispered.

"That sounds surprising, but life is full of surprises," the doctor
thought as he took up his medicine case and followed Rosie's lead.

The way took them to the alley behind the Wyker House, through a rear gate
to the back door of the kitchen, from which it was a short step to the
little "blind tiger" beyond the dining room. Sounds of boisterous talking
and laughter and a general shuffling of dishes told that the evening meal
was beginning. For her size and clumsiness Rosie whisked the doctor deftly
out of sight and joined the ranks of the waiters in the dining room.

The only light inside the little room came from the upper half of the one
window looking toward the alley. As it was already twilight the doctor did
not get his bearings until a huge form on the floor near the table made an
effort to rise.

"What's the trouble here?" Carey asked in the sympathetic-professional
voice by which he controlled sick rooms.

"Lord, Doc, is that you?" Darley Champers followed the words with a
groan.

"You are in a fix," Carey replied as he lifted Champers to his feet.

Blood was on his face and clothes and the floor, and Champers himself was
almost too weak to stand.

"Get me out of here as quick as you can, Doc," he said in a thick voice.

At the same moment Rosie Gimpke appeared from the kitchen.

"Slip him out queek now. I hold the dining room door tight," she urged,
rushing back to the kitchen.

Carey moved quickly and had Darley Champers safely out and into his own
office before Rosie had need to relax her grip on the dining room
door-knob.

"I guess you've saved me," Champers said faintly as the doctor examined
his wounds.

"Not as bad as that," Dr. Carey replied cheerfully. "An ugly scalp wound
and loss of blood, but you'll come back all right."

"And a kick in