Helena had swung herself to the table edge, and, glass in hand, dangling her neatly shod little feet, was smoking a cigarette, her brown hair with a glint of amber in it, her dark eyes veiled now by their heavy lashes; on the other side of the table Pale Face Harry coughed, as, with sleeve rolled back, he was intent on the hypodermic needle he was pushing into his arm; while the Flopper, his eyes with a dog-like admiration in them fixed on Madison, stood facing the door, a grotesque, unpleasant figure, unkempt, unshaven, furtive-faced, his rags hanging disreputably about him, his trousers with their frayed edges, now that he stood upright, reaching far above his boot tops and flagrantly exposing his wretched substitutes for socks. Doc Madison reached thoughtfully into his pocket, brought out a silver cigarette case, and carefully selected a cigarette from amongst its fellows. "Yes; Cleggy was right," he said softly, tapping the end of the cigarette on his thumb nail. "You're the real thing--the real, real thing." --II-- A NEW CULT Doc Madison swung Helena lightly down from the table to the head of the couch, sat down beside her, one arm circling her waist, and motioned the Flopper to a chair--then he leaned forward and watched Pale Face Harry critically, as the latter carefully replaced the shining little hypodermic in its case. "Harry," said he abruptly, jerking his free hand toward the hypodermic, "could you give up that dope-needle?" "Sure, I could--if I wanted to!" asserted Pale Face Harry defiantly. "That's good," said Madison cheerfully. "Because you'll have to." "Eh?"--Pale Face Harry stared at Doc Madison in amazement. "Because you'll have to--by and by," said Madison coolly. "And how about that cough--can you quit coughing?" "When I'm dead--which won't be long," sniffed Pale Face Harry. "D'ye think I cough because I like it? How'm I going to quit coughing?" "I don't know," admitted Doc Madison, frowning seriously. "I only know you'll have to." Pale Face Harry, with jaw dropped, accentuating the gaunt leanness of his hollow-cheeked, emaciated face, gazed at Doc Madison with a curious mingling of incredulity and affront--and coughed. "Say," he inquired grimly, "what's the answer?" Doc Madison took his arm from Helena's waist, pulled a newspaper from his pocket, spread it out on the table--and his manner changed suddenly--enthusiasm was in his eyes, his voice, his face.