urned he seized them eagerly and thrust them into the pocket of
his night-shirt.

"Where's the water?" he mumbled; and when Babette handed him the
tumbler he gulped down the water with noise sufficient to account for a
boxful of tablets.

"Now, leave me alone," he said; and Babette kissed him coldly on the
left ear.

"I hope you'll feel better in the morning," she said dutifully.

"Don't worry," Sam said. "I'm going to."

He listened carefully until he heard the door close and then he threw
back the coverlet. Very gingerly he slid to the carpet and planted
himself squarely on his feet. A sharp attack of "pins and needles"
prevented any further movement for some minutes; but at length it
subsided and he began to search for his slippers. His bathrobe hung on
the back of the door, and, after he had struggled into it, he opened
the door stealthily and, clinging to the balustrade, crept downstairs
to the basement.

He negotiated the opening of the ice-box door with the skill of an
experienced burglar; and immediately thereafter he sat down at the
kitchen table in front of a dishful of stewed chicken, four cold boiled
potatoes, the heel of a rye loaf, and a bottle of beer. Twenty minutes
later he laid away the empty dish on top of the kitchen sink, with the
empty beer bottle beneath it; then, after supplying himself with a box
of matches, he crept upstairs to his room.

When Babette opened the door the following morning she raised her chin
and sniffed suspiciously.

"Ain't it funny?" she murmured, "I could almost swear I smell stale
cigar smoke here."

Sam turned his face to the wall.

"You're crazy!" he said.

During the ensuing week Sam Gembitz became an adept in the art of
legerdemain; and the skill with which he palmed tablets under the very
nose of his daughter was only equalled by the ingenuity he displayed in
finally disposing of them. At least three dozen disappeared through a
crack in the wainscoting behind Sam's bed, while as many more were
poked through a hole in the mattress; and thus Sam became gradually
stronger, until Doctor Eichendorfer himself could not ignore the
improvement in his patient's condition.

"All right; you can sit up," he said to Sam; "but, remember, the least
indiscretion and back to bed you go."

Sam nodded, for Babette was in the room at the time; and, albeit Sam
had gained new courage through his nightly raids on the ice-box, he
lacked the boldness that three square meals a