When the Cock Crows. Waldron Baily

arms dropped close to her sides. She thrilled with delight as her shoulders slid easily through the opening.

      Then, in the next instant, the joy vanished. In its place came stark terror. For she found herself held motionless, when half way through the port-hole, with her arms bound fast by the pressure. She struggled violently, but to no avail. She was caught prisoner with a ruthless firmness that could not be escaped. Her frantic strivings did not budge her body the fraction of an inch either forward or backward. Indeed, it seemed that her futile endeavors to free herself only succeeded in wedging her more securely. She fancied that her own physical violence was causing her body to swell so that it should be gripped more fiercely by the unyielding circumference of the window. There flashed on her a memory of how once she had tried on a friend's ring, had tried it on a finger too large; of how she had pushed it down easily enough over the joint; of how she could not push it back again. She remembered how the finger had swiftly swollen until the ring was deep sunken in the reddened flesh. Now, she imagined her body, caught within the metal rim of the port-hole, was thus reddened and swollen. Her plight filled her with anguish. The dread of it made her forget in this new, overmastering fear all that she had so greatly dreaded hitherto. … Her voice broke in a scream:

      "Help! Oh, help! Help!"

      Almost instantly, as her voice ceased, Ethel heard the sound of hurrying feet on the deck above. She twisted her neck to look upward, and saw the pleasantly smiling face of Doctor Gifford Garnet, as he peered over the hurricane rail. In that moment of relief, the girl welcomed the familiar countenance of the family physician. She had no thought for the cunning smile that answered to her anguished appeal. She realized only that here was one to succor her in her extremity. She called out to him imploringly:

      "Oh, Doctor, help me please. I am caught here. My body is swelling, I think. You must get me out at once or I shall die. Oh, hurry!"

      The Doctor grinned at her with sardonic enjoyment of her predicament. But his bland words soothed her alarm:

      "I come to your rescue with all speed, Miss Ethel. Never fear, little one, you will soon be quite safe. I hasten to relieve your suffering."

      He vanished. Then, a few seconds later, she saw him making his way along the runway. She did not see the hypodermic syringe he carried in his left hand. She did not understand even when he came to her, and put his two hands to her shoulders as if to help her. She felt the sting of pain in her right arm, but thought it no more than the twinge of a strained muscle. Doctor Garnet deftly slipped the hypodermic syringe into his pocket without the girl's observing it. He spoke to her gently, encouragingly, awaiting the action of the drug. Then, a few moments later, Ethel's lids drooped, her form grew limp, her head lolled to the slight swaying of the yacht. She was held now in a clutch more terrible and more relentless than that of the metal band about her body. She was the hapless prisoner of morphia. Dr. Garnet stared into the face of the unconscious girl for a long half minute, with a curious gloating in his gaze. Then, abruptly, he strode away, and as he went he chuckled softly, with infinite relish over some evil jest known only to himself.