"He won't! He said he wouldn't. He doesn't want me to know where he is!" She was on the verge of tears. "Now, now," said the Doctor still in his soothing tones. "It isn't as bad as all that." "Take off your bed-side manner!" she snapped, blinking to keep back the tears. "It's worse! What ever can we do? Dr. Carl," she changed to a pleading tone, "can't you think of something?" "Of course, Pat! I can think of several things to do if you'll quiet down for a moment or so." "I'm sorry, Dr. Carl--but what _can_ we do?" "First, perhaps Mueller can trace him. That's his business, you know." "But suppose he can't--what then?" "Well, I'd suggest you write him a letter." "But I don't know where to write!" she wailed. "I don't know his address!" "Be still a moment, scatter-brain! Address it to his last residence; you know that, don't you? Of course you do. Now, don't you suppose he'll leave a forwarding address? He must receive some sort of mail about his income, or estate, or whatever he lives on. Your letter'll find him, Honey; don't you doubt it." "Oh, do you think so?" she asked, suddenly hopeful. "Do you really think so?" "I really think so. You would too if you didn't fly into a panic every time some little difficulty confronts you. Sometimes even my psychiatry is puzzled to explain how you can be so clever and so stupid, so self-reliant and so dependent, so capable and so helpless--all at one and the same time. Your Nick can't be as much of a paradox as you are!" "I wonder if a letter _will_ reach him," she said eagerly, ignoring the Doctor's remarks. "I'll try. I'll try immediately." "I sort of had a feeling you would," said Horker amiably. "I hope you succeed; and not only for your sake, Pat, because God knows how this thing will work out. But I'm anxious to examine this youngster of yours on my own account; he must be a remarkable specimen to account for all the perturbation he's managed to cause you. And this Jekyll-and-Hyde angle sounds interesting, too." "Jekyll and Hyde!" echoed Pat. "Dr. Carl, is that possible?" "Not literally," chuckled the other, "though in a sense, Stevenson anticipated Freud in his thesis that liberating the evil serves also to release the good." "But--It was a drug that caused that change in the story, wasn't it?" "Well? Do you suspect your friend of being addicted to some mysterious drug? Is that the latest hypothesis?" "_Is_ there such a drug? One that could change a person's character?" "_All_ alkaloids do that, Honey. Some of them stimulate, some depress, some breed frenzies, and some give visions of delight--but all of them influence one's mental and emotional organization, which you call character. So for that matter, does a square meal, or a cup of coffee, or even a rainy day." "But isn't there a drug that can separate good qualities from evil, like the story?" "Emphatically not, Pat! That's not the trouble with this pesky boy friend of yours."