When Babette opened the door the following morning she raised her chin and sniffed suspiciously.
"Ain't it funny?" she murmured, "I could almost swear I smell stale cigar smoke here."
Sam turned his face to the wall.
"You're crazy!" he said.
During the ensuing week Sam Gembitz became an adept in the art of legerdemain; and the skill with which he palmed tablets under the very nose of his daughter was only equalled by the ingenuity he displayed in finally disposing of them. At least three dozen disappeared through a crack in the wainscoting behind Sam's bed, while as many more were poked through a hole in the mattress; and thus Sam became gradually stronger, until Doctor Eichendorfer himself could not ignore the improvement in his patient's condition.
"All right; you can sit up," he said to Sam; "but, remember, the least indiscretion and back to bed you go."
Sam nodded, for Babette was in the room at the time; and, albeit Sam had gained new courage through his nightly raids on the ice-box, he lacked the boldness that three square meals a day engender.
"I would take good care of myself, Doctor," he said, "and the day after to-morrow might I could go downtown, maybe?"
"The day after to-morrow!" Doctor Eichendorfer exclaimed. "Why, you wouldn't be downtown for a month yet."
"The idea!" Babette cried indignantly. "As if the boys couldn't look after the place without you! What d'ye want to go downtown for at all?"