e Doctor and darted in.
There was a cry and a wail.

The Doctor followed quickly. Ristofalo passed out as he entered.
Richling lay on a rough gray blanket spread on the pavement with the
Italian's jacket under his head. Mary had thrown herself down beside him
upon her knees, and their arms were around each other's neck.

"Let me see, Mrs. Richling," said the physician, touching her on the
shoulder. She drew back. Richling lifted a hand in welcome. The Doctor
pressed it.

"Mrs. Richling," he said, as they faced each other, he on one knee, she
on both. He gave her a few laconic directions for the sick man's better
comfort. "You must stay here, madam," he said at length; "this man
Ristofalo will be ample protection for you; and I will go at once and
get your husband's discharge." He went out.

In the office he asked for a seat at a desk. As he finished using it he
turned to the keeper and asked, with severe face:--

"What do you do with sick prisoners here, anyway?"

The keeper smiled.

"Why, if they gits right sick, the hospital wagon comes and takes 'em to
the Charity Hospital."

"Umhum!" replied the Doctor, unpleasantly,--"in the same wagon they use
for a case of scarlet fever or small-pox, eh?"

The keeper, with a little resentment in his laugh, stated that he would
be eternally lost if he knew.

"_I_ know," remarked the Doctor. "But when a man is only a little
sick,--according to your judgment,--like that one in there now, he is
treated here, eh?"

The keeper swelled with a little official pride. His tone was boastful.

"We has a complete dispenisary in the prison," he said.

"Yes? Who's your druggist?" Dr. Sevier was in his worst inquisitorial
mood.

"One of the prisoners," said the keeper.

The Doctor looked at him steadily. The man, in the blackness of his
ignorance, was visibly proud of this bit of economy and convenience.

"How long has he held this position?" asked the physician.

"Oh, a right smart while. He was sentenced for murder, but he's waiting
for a new trial."

"And he has full charge of all the drugs?" asked the Doctor, with a
cheerful smile.

"Yes, sir." The keeper was flattered.

"Poisons and all, I suppose, eh?" pursued the Doctor.

"Everything."

The Doctor looked steadily and silently upon the officer, and tore and
folded and tore again into small bits the prescription he had written. A
moment later the door of his carriage shut with a smart clap and its
wheels rattle