"You were--just a shade--too--anxious--about that money. But it never
was--in any danger--from you, dear Doctor. It's safe. Perfectly safe.
It's all--in the hands--of the bookmakers. Twenty--thousand--Amy's
money. I played it at the races--lost every--cent of it. I've been a
pretty bad boy, Burglar--excuse me--Doctor, but I've been a square
sport. I don't think--I ever met--such an--eighteen-carat rascal as you
are, Doctor--excuse me--Burglar, in all my rounds. Is it contrary--to
the ethics--of your--gang, Burglar, to give a victim--excuse
me--patient, a drink of water?"
Doctor James brought him a drink. He could scarcely swallow it. The
reaction from the powerful drug was coming in regular, intensifying
waves. But his moribund fancy must have one more grating fling.
"Gambler--drunkard--spendthrift--I've been those, but--a
doctor-burglar!"
The physician indulged himself to but one reply to the other's caustic
taunts. Bending low to catch Chandler's fast crystallizing gaze,
he pointed to the sleeping lady's door with a gesture so stern and
significant that the prostrate man half-lifted his head, with his
remaining strength, to see.
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