e Bostonian remained, gazing out of the window until Johann had
banged twice on his door in announcement of dinner. Then he joined the
others.

When all were seated Schonholz made a statement which was followed with
results more astounding to the peace of the coterie than anything which
had occurred since the men came together.

"I haf bad news, boys," he began, "offle bad news. Mine fader has wrote
dat home I must. Nod anuder mark he say vill he gif me. Eef I could
sell somedings--but dat ees very seldom. No, Marny, you don't can lend
me noddings. What vill yourselluf do? Starve!"

"Where do you live, Schonholz?" asked Joplin.

"By Fizzenbad."

"What kind of a place is it--baths?"

"Yes."

"What are they good for?" continued Joplin in a subdued tone.

"Noddings, but blenty peoples go."

"I can tell you, Joppy," said Pudfut gravely, with a wink at Malone.
"There are two spas, both highly celebrated. Lord Ellenboro spent a
month there and came back looking like another man. One is for the
liver and the other for something or other, I can't recollect what."

"Heart?" asked Joplin.

"I don't know."

He didn't,--had never heard the place mentioned until Schonholz had
called its name a moment before.

Joplin played with his knife and made an attempt to nibble a slice of
Tine's toast, but he made no reply. All the fight of every kind seemed
to have been knocked out of him.

"Better take Fizzenbad in, Joppy," remarked Pudfut in an undertone.
"May do you a lot of good."

"How far is it, Schonholz?" asked Joplin, ignoring the Englishman's
suggestion.

"Oh, you leafe in de morgen and you come by Fizzenbad in a day more as
do one you go oud mid."

"No--can't afford it."

Here Joplin pushed back his chair, and with the remark that he thought
he would go downtown for some colors, left the room.

"It's working like a dose of salts," cried Pudfut when the Bostonian
was out of hearing. "Hasn't said 'epigastric nerve,' 'gram' or
'proteids' once. Got real human in an hour. Stebbins, you're a wonder."

The next morning everybody was up bright and early to see Schonholz
off. One of Fop Smit's packets was to leave for Rotterdam at seven and
Schonholz was a passenger. He could go by rail, but the boat was
cheaper. No deceptions had been practised and no illusions indulged in
as to the cause of his departure. He had had his supplies cut off, was
flat broke and as helpless as a plant without water. They had all, at