had stopped.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Half past nine."

Two hours and a half longer! He determined to remain here until
eleven. If, up to that time, Barstow had not called the dog by name he
would leave. He must write that letter and he must put himself as far
out of reach of these friends as possible before the end. If he died
on the train, his body would be put off at the next station and a local
inquest held. The verdict would be heart disease; enough money would
be found in his pocket to bury him; and so the matter would be dropped.

"I want you to promise, Don," ran on Barstow, "for I tell you that it's
either a rest or the hospital for you. You have nervous prostration
written big all over your face. I know how hard it is to make the
initial effort to pull out when your brain is all wound up, but you 'll
regret it if you don't. And you 'll like the crowd, Don. Lindsey is a
hearty fellow, who hasn't anything to do but live--but he does that
well. He's clean and square as a granite corner-stone. It will do you
good to mix in with him.

"And his boat is a corker! He spent a quarter of a million on it, and
he 's got a French cook that would make a dead man eat. He 'll put fat
on your bones, Don, and Lindsey will make you laugh. You don't laugh
enough, Don. You 're too serious. And if you have such weather as we
've had this week you 'll come back with a spirit that will boost your
law practice double."

He felt of Donaldson's arm. It was thin and flabby.

"Good Heavens--here, feel of mine!"

Donaldson grasped it with his weak fingers. It was beastly thick and
firm.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It is twenty minutes of ten. Is time so important to you?"

"I must get down-town before long."

"Rot! Why don't you drop your business here and now. Let things rip."

"Where 's the dog?" demanded Donaldson. The pup was out of sight. He
felt strangely frightened. He got up and looked all about the room.

"Where 's he gone?" he demanded again.

Barstow grasped him by the shoulder.

"You must pull yourself together," he said seriously. "You 're heading
for a worse place than the hospital."

"But where the devil has he gone? He was here a minute ago, was n't
he?"

"Easy, easy," soothed Barstow. "Hold tight!"

"Find him, won't you, Barstow? Won't you find him?"

To quiet him Barstow whistled. The dog pounded his tail on the floor
under the lounge.

"He 's under ther