The office of Dr. Erastus Wentworth was a scene of animation. By rare good luck, Slade had found the medical gentleman in an adjacent restaurant immediately after the cab drew up at the building which contained his office. Dick and Slade had assisted the dazed O'Byrn upstairs, when Slade, fuming with impatience, set out on a search for the physician, which was fortunately soon rewarded. They placed O'Byrn on a sofa and he immediately lapsed into dreamland. "Doctor," said Dick, "this man has a job to turn out tonight that would feaze many a fellow in his sober senses. He's simply got to do it tonight. It will take an hour, perhaps a half or so more. It must be started at midnight. I know it looks hopeless, but you don't know the man. If you only start his brain half-working it's worth a couple of normal ones under full head. What do you think?" He was pacing the floor in keen excitement. Slade stood near, silent, with burning eyes. "Bad!" commented the doctor, dryly. "How much has he had?" "Not so much," returned Slade. "He got a nasty bump; it helped." "Well, we'll try," said the doctor, and was soon busy. Micky was sufficiently oblivious not to wince at the sting of the hypodermic needle, piercing his bared arm, forcing into his system the powerful solution of strychnine, the influence of which must be invoked to reinforce the mechanism of the numbed brain. Dick looked at the Irishman, sprawled supine upon the office sofa, still with closed eyes. It looked hopeless enough and Dick despaired. A little later the physician was preparing with infinite care a mixture which he finally seemed to have ready to his satisfaction. He approached the prostrate man. "Rank poison," he said grimly to Glenwood, "but desperate cases require desperate remedies. I fancy this will complete the job of galvanizing your friend for the time you require. Probably he won't exactly scintillate, but I think he will do." He administered the stuff to O'Byrn, who, half-conscious already despite his relaxed attitude, swallowed it obediently. "Now in a few minutes," said the doctor, "you can start with him. But remember one thing," he cautioned Glenwood, "this brace is wholly artificial. It won't last. A little later and I couldn't have done much for you anyway. He'll run along like a machine for a while, that's all. Get all you can from him while you can, for there'll be a reaction." "That's what we've got to do anyway," replied Dick grimly. "It's a case of racing the clock with us from now on." A little later they descended the stairs, O'Byrn stumbling heedlessly down, assisted by Glenwood. The cabman had waited under instructions. "The Courier office in a hurry," Dick ordered, and assisted Micky inside. Slade followed. He had resolved to be in at the death. As the cab rolled rapidly south, Dick spoke to the man opposite him, now rousing to a dull consciousness of his surroundings.