“Me—­me!  Yes, me.  D’yuh think I ain’t been onto yuh?  D’yuh think I ain’t seen any o’ that billy-dooin’—­you an’ him upstairs in the entryway—­huh?  An’ d’yuh think Hen ain’t wise too?  D’yuh think he gave me the top-floor room for nothin’—­huh?  Oh, yes; we’re a couple o’ come-ons—­Hen an’ me—­oh, yes!  Run along now, Salomey—­he’s there, waitin’ for me.  D’yuh hear—­waitin’ for me!  They all fall when yuh play ’em right.  All of ’em.  Thought yuh had’m to yerself—­huh?  Well, guess different next time; for he’s out there waitin’ for me—­the soft-headed Dutchman!  Beat it!  Beat it when yer gettin’ the worst of it.  An’ talk any more about a policeman—­an’ see what Hen says to it!”

Jan could hear Mrs. Goles ascending the stairs behind him.  He hurried up, intending to get to his room and hide away before she knew, but it was the last key of the bunch which fitted the lock, and before he had the door opened she was up with him.

She turned the hall light up to see him better.

“Weren’t you downstairs in the back room a minute ago?” she asked at last.

“I was; but—­” Jan reached up a heavy hand and rubbed his forehead.  “I was—­I know I was; but—­” somehow he was feeling bewildered.

She drew nearer to him.

“Come nearer the light.  Stand where the light will be on your face.  Let me see your eyes.  There—­you can’t keep them open.  Did you drink that second glass of ginger ale—­after it was brought in all opened up?  Never mind trying to speak—­just bow your head.  You did?  Oh, you poor innocent boy!  Here—­go into your room.  And wait there.  I’ll be right back.  Light the lamp if you can while you’re waiting.”

Jan managed to light the lamp.

She was soon back with a bowl of something hot which she held to Jan’s lips—­a nasty-tasting stuff.  While he stopped once to get his breath she stepped to the door, took the key from the outside and set it on the inside.  She stepped to Jan’s side again.  “Finish it!” she ordered.  “Every drop.  There—­but sh-h!—­hear’em?”

“Hear what, ma’am?”

“The footsteps—­coming upstairs.  Creeping up.  Hear ’em?” She stepped to the light and blew it out.  She stepped to the door and turned the key.

“Oh-h!” Jan had fallen backward on the bed and now was rolling from side to side.  His stomach was griping him like a burning hand.

“Hold in for a minute if you can!” she whispered

Nausea uncontrollable, as it seemed to Jan, was taking hold of him when a knock came on the door.  “Sh-h!” she warned, and Jan controlled himself.  He wanted more than ever to vomit, but there came another knock on the door—­and another.  And then the knob was turned.

A silence then; and then a voice—­a man’s voice:  “I told you you were crazy.  He felt dizzy and went out into the street for some fresh air.  You shouldn’t ’ve left him once he got the stuff into him.  Take a look round the block.  He’s probably laying in the gutter somewhere with that load into him.”