take things comfortably," he
directed.

"There ain't but two," grinned Pale Face Harry.

"Oh, well, never mind," said Madison.

"Slew the couch around and pull that up--Helena and I will sit on the
head of it."

Still pacing up and down the length of the room, his hands in his
pockets, Doc Madison watched the others as they carried out his
directions; and then, suddenly, as he neared the door, his hand shot
out, wrenched the door open, and, quick as a panther in its spring, he
was in the hall without.

There was a yell, a scuffle, the rip and crash of rending bannisters, an
instant's silence, then a heavy thud--and then Cleggy's voice from
somewhere below in a choice and fervent flow of profanity.

Doc Madison re-entered the room, closed the door, dispassionately
arranged a disordered cuff, brushed a few particles of dust from his
sleeves and shoulder, and, this done, started toward the table--and
stopped.

Helena had swung herself to the table edge, and, glass in hand, dangling
her neatly shod little feet, was smoking a cigarette, her brown hair
with a glint of amber in it, her dark eyes veiled now by their heavy
lashes; on the other side of the table Pale Face Harry coughed, as, with
sleeve rolled back, he was intent on the hypodermic needle he was
pushing into his arm; while the Flopper, his eyes with a dog-like
admiration in them fixed on Madison, stood facing the door, a grotesque,
unpleasant figure, unkempt, unshaven, furtive-faced, his rags hanging
disreputably about him, his trousers with their frayed edges, now that
he stood upright, reaching far above his boot tops and flagrantly
exposing his wretched substitutes for socks.

Doc Madison reached thoughtfully into his pocket, brought out a silver
cigarette case, and carefully selected a cigarette from amongst its
fellows.

"Yes; Cleggy was right," he said softly, tapping the end of the
cigarette on his thumb nail. "You're the real thing--the real, real
thing."

--II--

A NEW CULT

Doc Madison swung Helena lightly down from the table to the head of the
couch, sat down beside her, one arm circling her waist, and motioned the
Flopper to a chair--then he leaned forward and watched Pale Face Harry
critically, as the latter carefully replaced the shining little
hypodermic in its case.

"Harry," said he abruptly, jerking his free hand toward the hypodermic,
"could you give up that dope-needle?"

"Sure, I could--if I wanted to!" asserted Pa