He tried to soliloquize, to be facetious, to have his last grim laugh at life, but his lips made only incoherent sounds.  The thought came to him that the emetic had failed, and that nothing remained but the drug store.  He looked toward the door and drew himself to his feet.  There he saved himself from falling by clutching the chair.  Another paroxysm had begun.  And in the midst of the paroxysm, with his body and all the parts of it flying apart and writhing and twisting back again into knots, he clung to the chair and shoved it before him across the floor.  The last shreds of his will were leaving him when he gained the door.  He turned the key and shot back one bolt.  He fumbled for the second bolt, but failed.  Then he leaned his weight against the door and slid down gently to the floor.

[Illustration:]

A NOSE FOR THE KING

In the morning calm of Korea, when its peace and tranquility truly merited its ancient name, “Cho-sen,” there lived a politician by name Yi Chin Ho.  He was a man of parts, and—­who shall say?—­perhaps in no wise worse than politicians the world over.  But, unlike his brethren in other lands, Yi Chin Ho was in jail.  Not that he had inadvertently diverted to himself public moneys, but that he had inadvertently diverted too much.  Excess is to be deplored in all things, even in grafting, and Yi Chin Ho’s excess had brought him to most deplorable straits.

Ten thousand strings of cash he owed the government, and he lay in prison under sentence of death.  There was one advantage to the situation—­he had plenty of time in which to think.  And he thought well.  Then called he the jailer to him.

“Most worthy man, you see before you one most wretched,” he began.  “Yet all will be well with me if you will but let me go free for one short hour this night.  And all will be well with you, for I shall see to your advancement through the years, and you shall come at length to the directorship of all the prisons of Cho-sen.”

“How now?” demanded the jailer.  “What foolishness is this?  One short hour, and you but waiting for your head to be chopped off!  And I, with an aged and much-to-be-respected mother, not to say anything of a wife and several children of tender years!  Out upon you for the scoundrel that you are!”

“From the Sacred City to the ends of all the Eight Coasts there is no place for me to hide,” Yi Chin Ho made reply.  “I am a man of wisdom, but of what worth my wisdom here in prison?  Were I free, well I know I could seek out and obtain the money wherewith to repay the government.  I know of a nose that will save me from all my difficulties.”

“A nose!” cried the jailer.

“A nose,” said Yi Chin Ho.  “A remarkable nose, if I may say so, a most remarkable nose.”

The jailer threw up his hands despairingly.  “Ah, what a wag you are, what a wag,” he laughed.  “To think that that very admirable wit of yours must go the way of the chopping-block!”