to be any runnin’ out an’ makin’ a poison play on thestreet—not with all them jools reposin’ under the pillow.
Savve？ Even if you didn’t die， you’d be in the hands of thepolice with a whole lot of explanations comin’. Emetics isthe stuff for poison. I’m just as bad bit as you， an’ I’m goin’
to take a emetic. That’s all they’d give you at a drug store，anyway.”
He thrust Jim back into the middle of the room andshot the bolts into place. As he went across the floor tothe food shelf， he passed one hand over his brow and flungoff the beaded sweat. It spattered audibly on the floor. Jimwatched agonizedly as Matt got the mustard-can and a cupand ran for the sink. He stirred a cupful of mustard andwater and drank it down. Jim had followed him and wasreaching with trembling hands for the empty cup. AgainMatt shoved him away. As he mixed a second cupful， hedemanded—
“D’you think one cup’ll do for me？ You can wait till I’mdone.”
Jim started to totter toward the door， but Matt checkedhim.
“If you monkey with that door， I’ll twist your neck. Savve？
You can take yours when I’m done. An’ if it saves you， I’lltwist your neck， anyway. You ain’t got no chance， nohow. Itold you many times what you’d get if you did me dirt.”
“But you did me dirt， too，” Jim articulated with aneffort.
Matt was drinking the second cupful， and did notanswer. The sweat had got into Jim’s eyes， and he couldscarcely see his way to the table， where he got a cupfor himself. But Matt was mixing a third cupful， and， asbefore， thrust him away.
“I told you to wait till I was done，” Matt growled. “Getouta my way.”
And Jim supported his twitching body by holding onto the sink， the while he yearned toward the yellowishconcoction that stood for life. It was by sheer will that hestood and clung to the sink. His flesh strove to double himup and bring him to the floor. Matt drank the third cupful，and with difficulty managed to get to a chair and sit down.
His first paroxysm was passing. The spasms that afflictedhim were dying away. This good effect he ascribed to themustard and water. He was safe， at any rate. He wiped thesweat from his face， and， in the interval of calm， foundroom for curiosity. He looked at his partner.
A spasm had shaken the mustard can out of Jim’s hands，and the contents were spilled upon the floor. He stooped toscoop some of the mustard into the cup， and the succeedingspasm doubled him upon the floor. Matt smiled.
“Stay with it，” he encouraged. “It’s the stuff all right. It’sfixed me up.”
Jim heard him and turned toward him a stricken face，twisted with suffering and pleading. Spasm now followedspasm till he was in convulsions， rolling on the floor andyellowing his face and hair in the mustard.
Matt laughed hoarsely at the sight， but the laugh brokemidway. A tremor had run through his body. A newparoxysm was beginning. He arose and staggered across tothe sink， where， with probing forefinger， he vainly stroveto assist the action of the emetic. In the end， he clung tothe sink as Jim had clung， filled with the horror of goingdown to the floor.
The other’s paroxysm had passed， and he sat up， weakand fainting， too weak to rise， his forehead dripping， hislips flecked with a foam made yellow by the mustard inwhich he had rolled. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles，and groans that were like whines came from his throat.
“What are you snifflin’ about？” Matt demanded out ofhis agony. “All you got to do is die. An’ when you die you’redead.”
“I ... ain’t ... snifflin’ ... it’s ... the ... mustard ... stingin’ ...
my ... eyes，” Jim panted with desperate slowness.
It was his last successful attempt at speech. Thereafterhe babbled incoherently， pawing the air with shaking armstill a fresh convulsion stretched him on the floor.
Matt struggled back to the chair， and， doubled up on it，with his arms clasped about his knees， he fought with hisdisintegrating flesh. He came out of the convulsion cooland weak. He looked to see how it went with the other，and saw him lying motionless.
He tried to soliloquize， to be facetious， to have hislast grim laugh at life， but his lips made only incoherentsounds. The thought came to him that the emetic hadfailed， and that nothing remained but the drug store.
He looked toward the door and drew himself to his feet.
There he saved himself from falling by clutching the chair.
Another paroxysm had begun. And in the midst of theparoxysm， with his body and all the parts of it flying apartand writhing and twisting back again into knots， he clungto the chair and shoved it before him across the floor. Thelast shreds of his will were leaving him when he gainedthe door. He turned the key and shot back one bolt. Hefumbled for the second bolt， but failed. Then he leaned hisweight against the door and slid down gently to the floor.