On these two matters his mind had remained fixed until the poignancy of brooding became intolerable; and he sought relief in prison-smuggled drugs. Which, so far, was the history of Eddie Carter, addict, and penman par excellence. * * * * * Now, hunched up in an arm-chair in her living-room, he studied the immediate problem of Eris, picking eternally at the upholstery with scarred fingers, or at his clothing, his face, his own finger-nails--the skin around the base of the nails raw from long habit of self-mutilation. His first plan of enlisting the girl’s sympathy had proven hopeless. There remained the alternate plan. Six o’clock sounded from the mantel-clock. He got up and went to the pantry, where was a telephone extension for servants. With some difficulty and delay he got the person he was calling: “Say, Abe, it’s Eddie. I’ve done what you said for me to do----” “I didn’t tell you to do anything!” interrupted his lawyer, angrily. “Get next to yourself or I quit right now! D’you get that, you cheap dumbbell?” “Sure! But listen, Abe. I’m _here_. I’ve been here since ten o’clock last night. We’re _both_ here, Abe----” “Is it fixed up?” “No, Abe; and I want you to come right now. You understand, Abe----” “Cut out the Abe every other word,” interrupted the attorney wrathfully. “What are you trying to do to me? Act like you got sense or I’m through!” “All right. Take it on the run. I’ll let you in. You better not stop to shave; it’s six, now.” “I’ll be around,” replied the lawyer briefly. * * * * * He came in a taxi-cab. Eddie Carter saw him from the front window, went downstairs in his stocking-feet, and let him in. Climbing the stairs again they came into the living-room without exchanging a word; but here Carter pointed to the closed door of Eris’ bed-room. “Asleep?” inquired the other, still breathing hard from the ascent. “I don’t know. She’s locked in.” The lawyer looked at him: “So she locked you out? When?” “Last night.” “Wouldn’t she make up?” “No.” “Well, we’ll have to fix it----” There was a silence; then the short, fat attorney took hold of Carter’s arm and spoke close to his ear: “Get this right! When she unlocks that door to come out, _you came out with her_!” “You saw me,” nodded Carter. They began to prowl around the apartment. In the kitchen the lawyer whispered: “She must have some kind of a maid that comes by the day.” “Yes, a nigger. Her name’s Hattie. You going to buy her, Abe?” “We don’t have to. She’s our witness anyway,” added the little fat attorney, with a hint of a grin. At that moment a key rattled in the kitchen door. CHAPTER XXVII As Eris was entirely alone in the apartment at night, it had been her custom to lock and bolt her chamber door,--a rough neighbourhood and rear fire-escapes making it advisable.