"Damnation!" he exploded. "Prussic acid--or cyanide! What in--" He caught sight of Pat's tragic eyes, and suddenly replaced the container. "Pat!" he groaned. "Pat, Honey!" He drew her into the circle of his great arm. "I'll help you, dear! All I can, with all my heart, since it means that much to you!" He groaned again under his breath. "Oh, my God!" He held her a moment, patting her tousled black head with his massive, delicate fingered hand. Then he released her, turning to Nick. "This the stuff?" he asked, brusquely, indicating the cabinet of bottles, with its splintered front. Nick nodded. Pat sank to the chair beside the table and watched Horker as he scanned the array of containers. He pulled out a tiny wooden case and snapped it open to reveal a number of steel needles that glinted brightly in the yellow light. He grunted in satisfaction and continued his inspection. "Atropine," he muttered, reading the labeled boxes. "Cocaine, daturine, hyoscine, hyoscyamine--won't do!" "What do you need?" the girl queried faintly. "A mild hypnotic," said the Doctor abstractedly, still searching. "Pretty good substitutes for psychoanalysis--certain drugs. Dulls the conscious mind, but not to complete unconsciousness. Good means of getting at the subconscious. See?" "Sort of," said Pat. "If it only works!" "Oh, it'll work if we can find--ah!" He seized a tiny cardboard box. "Scopolamine! This'll do the work." He extracted a tiny glassy something from one or other of the boxes he held, and frowned down at it. He seized the carafe of water, plunged something pointed and shiny into it. "Antiseptic," he muttered thoughtfully. He seized a brown bottle from the case, held it toward the light, and shook it. "Peroxide's gone flat," he growled. "Nothing but water." He pulled a silver cigar-lighter from his pocket and snapped a yellow flame to it. He passed the point of the hypodermic rapidly back and forth through the little spear of fire. Finally he turned to Nick. "Take off your coat," he ordered. "Roll up your shirt sleeve--the left one. And sit over there." He indicated the couch along the wall. The youth obeyed without a word. The only indication of emotion was a long, miserable, wistful look at Pat as he seated himself impassively on the spot that the girl had so recently occupied. "Now!" said the Doctor briskly, approaching the youth. "This will make you drowsy, sleepy. That's all it'll do. Don't fight the effect. Just relax, let the thing take its course, and I'll see what I can get out of you." Pat gasped and Nick winced as he drove the needle into the bared arm. "So!" he said. "Now relax. Lean back and close your eyes." He stepped to the door, dragged in a battered chair from the hall, and occupied it. He sat beside Pat, watching the pale features of the youth, who sat quietly with closed eyes, breathing slowly, heavily.