neat as you please in your half the porterhouse.--Hold on! Where're you
goin'?"

Jim had made a dash for the door, and was throwing back the bolts. Matt
sprang in between and shoved him away.

"Drug store," Jim panted. "Drug store."

"No you don't. You'll stay right here. There ain't goin' to be any
runnin' out an' makin' a poison play on the street--not with all them jools
reposin' under the pillow. Savve? Even if you didn't die, you'd be in the
hands of the police with a whole lot of explanations comin'. Emetics is
the stuff for poison. I'm just as bad bit as you, an' I'm goin' to take a
emetic. That's all they'd give you at a drug store, anyway."

He thrust Jim back into the middle of the room and shot the bolts into
place. As he went across the floor to the food shelf, he passed one hand
over his brow and flung off the beaded sweat. It spattered audibly on the
floor. Jim watched agonizedly as Matt got the mustard-can and a cup and
ran for the sink. He stirred a cupful of mustard and water and drank it
down. Jim had followed him and was reaching with trembling hands for the
empty cup. Again Matt shoved him away. As he mixed a second cupful, he
demanded--

"D'you think one cup'll do for me? You can wait till I'm done."

Jim started to totter toward the door, but Matt checked him.

"If you monkey with that door, I'll twist your neck. Savve? You can take
yours when I'm done. An' if it saves you, I'll twist your neck, anyway.