st his case."

"Poor devil! I know just what kind of torment he lived through." Doctor
Dempsy raised himself on an elbow and shook his head at Peter. "A case
like that may be fiction to you, but it's fact to us in the profession.
You have no idea how often a youngster's nerves fail him."

"Guess I'm getting the idea. But I need your help to finish the yarn. Of
course the hospital couldn't bounce him for losing one case. They would
have to prove first that he wasn't fit, wouldn't they?"

"They would have to make him out incompetent."

Peter nodded. Had there been more light in the room Doctor Dempsy might
have been startled at the unprecedented expression of cunning that had
crept into his friend's face. "I'm not up enough in medical matters to
know what I could prove against the young chap to put him out. You'll have
to help me. Just how could his rival oust him?"

"Accuse him of drugs," came the unhesitating answer. "That's the most
plausible, and it's what plays havoc with young surgeons quicker than
anything else. They feel their nerves going, and they take a hypodermic;
it steadies them until--it gets them. If you can make your villain
convince the staff that drugs are back of the lost case, you can get your
poor devil of a surgeon permanently disposed of."

Peter let out a long-drawn breath. "Thank you, Doc. You've helped me
out--considerably."

It does not in the least matter how Peter finished the tale. Before the
inevitable conclusion Doctor Dempsy dropped off to sleep, and no one but
Peter himself heard the final, "And they married and lived happy ever
after. By Jupiter they did!"

He slipped softly out of the room and stood a moment in the corridor,
wondering what he would do next. Sleep seemed unnecessary just then, as
well as undesirable. And as he stood there, innocent of all intention of
eavesdropping, he had that rare experience of hearing history repeat
itself. From around the bend of the corridor, out of sight, came the low
but distinct whisper of the night nurse's voice at the house 'phone.

"Miss Maxwell, Miss Maxwell, can you hear me? This is Miss Jacobs. Leerie
went to Doctor Brainard's room a half-hour ago. She's still there.... All
right." And then the soft click of the receiver dropping into place.

Peter stiffened; his hands clenched. His first impulse was to creep 'round
and quietly choke the tattle-tale breath out of Miss Jacobs. He knew how
the little green-eyed nurse was gloating o