"I'll not; it shan't touch you; don't be afraid, old man." There was something wonderfully soothing in Van Lennop's quiet voice.
"I'll tell the lady doc to bounce out," said the bartender. "He's got 'em bad. I had 'em twict myself and took the cure. It's fierce. He's gotta have some dope—a shot o' hop will fix him."
The bartender hurried away on his kindly mission, while the Dago Duke clung to Van Lennop like a horrified child to its mother.
Dr. Harpe came quickly, her hair loose about her shoulders, looking younger and more girlish in a soft negligee than Van Lennop had ever seen her. She saw the faint shade of prejudice cross his face as she entered, but satisfaction was in her own. Her chance had come at last in this unexpected way.
"Snakes," she said laconically.
"Yes," Van Lennop replied with equal brevity.
"I'll have to quiet him. Will you stay with him?" She addressed Van Lennop.
"Certainly."
"Look here," protested the bartender in an injured voice. "He's my best friend and havin' had snakes myself——"
"Aw—clear out—all of you. We'll take care of him."