kennel!" observed Harland Slack, glancing at it
superciliously as he got out.

"These are my offices," answered Dr. Randolph urbanely, paying no
attention to the half-maudlin discourtesy.

Supposing that one of these houses with a frontage of seventeen feet,
has a depth of two hundred feet, and is five stories high? The
dog-kennel assumes an area of nearly half an acre. There may be large
rooms, almost a spacious salon in one of these insignificant homes.
Seemingly unlimited space behind ridiculously narrow stone walls, is one
of the many mysteries of city life.

Harland Slack sank upon the sofa, and languidly watched the Doctor turn
up the gas.

"You haven't a nip of brandy, have you? I feel so confoundedly thirsty."
Dr. Randolph looked at the speaker, whose wavering eye vainly strove to
elude his. The Doctor seemed to be balancing in his mind whether to
grant the guest his wish or not.

"Look here, old boy," said Harland, almost with a whine, "it isn't fair,
doncherno, to bring a fellow in here and stare at him that way. My
beagles wouldn't treat me so. I'm burning up with thirst. Just a little.
That's hospitable, you know." He finished with a sigh and a fuddled look
of entreaty. He had gone a half an hour without alcohol.

"I beg your pardon, Slack," said Randolph slowly, "of course you shall
have it. But I would rather give you some cordial of mine first. It
will take your thirst away sooner than your infernal liquor."

Slack nodded wearily, while the Doctor unlocked a black cabinet and took
from thence a brittle flask and a liqueur glass. He held the flask up to
the light before Slack's face. The liquid flamed yellow in the gaslight.
It seemed to have concentrated in its ebullient elements the
exhilaration of life. Now, the yellow cordial, even as the inebriate
looked upon it, glowed and became incandescent. It seemed to be endowed
with its own principle of energy. Harland Slack started up, and looked
at this phenomenon more closely with intelligent astonishment.

"This," said Dr. Alaric Randolph observantly, "is the issue of many
laborious years abroad. This is the theriaca against all vital poisons.
Watch it; for even as you look upon it, you absorb its virtue."

There was no melodrama in the Doctor's action or accent. He spoke quite
naturally. Harland was as much impressed by his friend's sincerity as by
the singular appearance of this _elixir vitae_. He did not need to be
urged to look at the glass ag