He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Cherriton was regarding him closely, puzzled at the change in him.
"You managed to get along without it for a long time," retorted Cherriton, looking at him coldly.
"I had to—there was nothing else for it. That damned nursing home——" Suddenly he put out his hand and laid it on the German's arm. "Where's Manners, for God's sake tell me—tell me? I must have some——"
Then he became aware of a narrowing of the other's gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
The Captain laughed.
"Don't do it; it makes my blood run cold," Treves protested.
"I was thinking of your drug habit—how conveniently it comes and goes."
"Don't sneer at me, for God's sake," pleaded Treves. "I'm desperate." He walked the floor in a state of nervous tension, which would have been pitiable to witness, had there been in Cherriton any spirit of mercy. "It seems there's been a law passed forbidding chemists—you can't get cocaine anywhere," he jerked out, hopelessly.
Cherriton's dark gaze was again upon him.
"I can't give you cocaine, Treves," he said, "but if you come into my bedroom there, I'll give you something else."