“Too mild,” said Drew. “I should have eaten the salve, but I was afraid. I was nervous from spending last night with Roberts. It was terrible to see him act the way he did. He cried out once. It was like a bellow.” Feeling slightly dizzy, Drew stopped talking for a moment and wiped his forehead.
Martin waited quietly.
“This evening,” Drew continued, “I went to my bedroom and took the jar from my cabinet, holding it as though it contained radium. I was uncertain, as I always am on approaching this Nirvana; but to-night I was afraid. As I removed the lid, exposing the ointment, its ungodly musk affected my breathing. There was something sinister in its appearance. I peered deeply into it, and the jelly seemed to glow and change from a dark green to a paler color. It trembled and faded to a lighter shade, and stayed that way. Then the odor poured afresh into my nostrils. I felt staggered and closed the lid.” Drew shivered again, then relaxed in his chair, while Martin watched him.
Deane brought in three steaming cups of coffee. Martin drank his hurriedly, taking the hot liquid in large swallows. Drew sipped his, while Deane’s remained untouched.
Seized with excitement after this fresh stimulant, Drew arose suddenly, put down his cup, turned to Deane and said, “I must go. And I know you will understand, Deane, if I ask Martin to leave with me.” With feverish haste he put on his coat and Martin, with an expressive look at Deane, followed him from the apartment.
As Deane fastened the door after them she leaned upon it for a moment, her forehead resting against the panel, her small hands tightly closed.
Drew and Martin walked swiftly up the street, for the cold night breeze whipped in from the Atlantic. Martin turned down the brim of his hat and put his hands into the pockets of his topcoat. Drew looked around at him.
“Would you like to be at sea to-night?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about it,” answered Martin. “There isn’t a bad night on land but that I think of the men on ships.”