"I went with him to his room. From a small bottle, he handed me a pellet, with instruction to swallow it. I must ask no question--merely return to my work, and see if it did not ease my labors. I did as directed. I found the promised relief--I could do wonders. Very soon, I became the leader of my class. There were no questions asked. Whenever I felt depressed, I went to the tutor's room and he came to my rescue. "It was nearly a month before I was certain what he was giving me. As you, Miss Marion, have trusted me as a friend, so I trusted this man. One day I went back to this fellow for more 'Brain Food'--as I had innocently begun to term it. I had been accustomed to entering his room without knocking, but on this occasion the door was locked. He heard me rattling the knob, and called out to know who was there. I shouted in answer and said it was Garnet after more Brain Food. He then unlatched the door and admitted me. His coat was off and one arm was bare. Upon a small stand was a hypodermic outfit. I was surprised, for I had never seen the fellow take medicine of any kind. He laughingly remarked that I was just in time--that he was not feeling quite himself and so was taking a little Brain Food 'the other way.' "I guessed now that the drug I had been taking was indeed morphia. For a moment, I was startled and alarmed. But the fright was of short duration. I had already developed a craving for this thing that so helped me on with my work. The tutor bade me remove my coat, roll up my shirt-sleeve, and allow him to give me a little Brain Food in his way. Needless to say, I did as he ordered. That was my first 'shot'.... Years ago, that man killed himself--perhaps in remorse for his crime against me and others corrupted by him." The Doctor sat silent for a long minute in brooding contemplation over this beginning of the vice that had mastered him, and now threatened at last to destroy him. "It was not long after this," he resumed, still with that toneless monotony of voice, "that I began my life-work. Sometimes, I would go for long periods without resorting to the needle. That has helped me in the deception of my patients. For long intervals, I could endure without the drug. Then, during periods of great mental strain and physical depression from all-night vigils, I would invariably fall back upon my old Brain Food. Occasionally, such a relapse would develop into what might be termed a morphia spree. It was at the time of my last spree that--to my destruction, and your discomfiture and suffering--I was called to treat you aboard _The Isabel_." It seemed to Ethel that Doctor Garnet wearied of his long discourse. He now arose from his chair, and once again he began to pace the floor uneasily. It appeared that he was debating in his mind whether or not he should continue his narrative.