brilliant bargain offers of good conduct to Almighty God,
if "Boyee" were saved to him.

Once in the little hotel room, the physician went about his business
with swift decisiveness, aided by the mite of a girl, who seemed to know
by instinct where to be and what to do in the way of handling towels,
wash-basin, and the other simple paraphernalia required. Professor
Certain was unceremoniously packed off to the drug store for bandages.
When he returned the patient had recovered consciousness.

"Where's Dad?" he asked eagerly. "Did he hurt Dad?"

"No, Boyee." The big man was at the bedside in two long, velvety-footed
steps. Struck by the extenuation of the final "y" in the term, the
physician for the first time noted a very faint foreign accent, the
merest echo of some alien tongue. "Are you in pain, Boyee?"

"Not very much. It doesn't matter. Why did he want to kill you?"

"Never mind that, now," interrupted the physician. "We'll get that
scratch bound up, and then, young man, you'll go to sleep."

Pallid as a ghost, the itinerant held the little hand during the process
of binding the wound. "Boyee" essayed to smile, at the end, and closed
his eyes.

"Now we can leave him," said the physician. "Poppet, curl up in that
chair and keep watch on our patient while this gentleman and I have a
little talk in the outer room."

With a brisk nod of obedience and comprehension, the elfin girl took her
place, while the two men went out.

"What do I owe you?" asked Professor Certain, as soon as the door had
closed.

"Nothing."

"Oh, that won't do."

"It will have to do."

"Courtesy of the profession? But--"

The other laughed grimly, cutting him short. "So you call yourself an
M.D., do you?"

"Call myself? I am. Regular degree from the Dayton Medical College." He
sleeked down his heavy hair with a complacent hand.

The physician snorted. "A diploma-mill. What did you pay for your M.D.?"

"One hundred dollars, and it's as good as your four-year P. and S.
course or any other, for my purposes," retorted the other, with
hardihood. "What's more, I'm a member of the American Academy of
Surgeons, with a special diploma from St. Luke's Hospital of Niles,
Michigan, and a certificate of fellowship in the National Medical
Scientific Fraternity. Pleased to meet a brother practitioner." The
sneer was as palpable as it was cynical.

"You've got all the fake trimmings, haven't you? Do those things pay?"

"Do they! Better t