The Miracle Man | Page 5

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.
"I've steered you three through a few deals," said he impressively, "that
have sized up big enough to keep you out of the raw vaudeville turn
you, Harry, and you, Flopper, are so fond of, and that would have put
Helena here on easy street, if you hadn't blown in all you got about ten
minutes after you got your hands on it--but I've got one here that sizes
up so big you wouldn't be able to spend the money fast enough to close
out your bank account if you did your damnedest! Get that? It's the
greatest cinch that ever came down from the gateway of heaven--and
that's where it came from--heaven. It couldn't have come from
anywhere else--it's too good. And it's new, bran new--it's never had the

string cut or the wrapper taken off. It's got anything that was ever run
beaten by more laps than there are in the track, and it's got a purse tied
on to the end of it that's the biggest ever offered since Adam. But
you've got to work for it, and that's what I brought you here for
to-night--to learn your little pieces so's you can say 'em nice and cute
when you get up on the platform before the audience."
The Flopper's tongue made a greedy circuit of his upper and under lips,
and he hitched his chair closer to the table.
A flush spread over Pale Face Harry's cheeks, and his eyes, abnormally
bright, grew brighter.
"You're all right, Doc," he assured Doc Madison anxiously. "You're all
right."
"U-uu-mm!" cooed Helena excitedly. "Go on, Doc--go on!"
"Listen," said Doc Madison, his voice lowered a little. "I found this
tucked away as a filler in a corner of the newspaper this evening. It's
headed, 'A New Cult,' with an interrogation mark after it. Now listen,
while I read it:"
A NEW CULT?
Needley, Maine, offers no attraction for aspiring young medical men.
One who tried it recently, and who pulled down his shingle in disgust
after a week, says competition is too strong, as the village is obsessed
with the belief that they have a sort of faith-healer in their midst to
whom is attributed cures of all descriptions stretching back for a
generation or more. The healer, he adds, who rejoices in the name of
the Patriarch and lives in solitude a mile or so from the village, is
something of an anomaly in himself, being both deaf and dumb. We--
"But that's all that interests us," said Doc Madison, as he stopped
reading abruptly and lifted his head to scrutinize his companions
quizzically.

Pale Face Harry's eyes had lost their gleam and dulled--he gaped
reproachfully at Doc Madison. Helena's small mouth drooped
downward in a disappointed moue. Only the Flopper evidenced
enthusiastic response.
"Sure!" he chortled. "Sure t'ing! I see. De old geezer'll have a pile of
shekels hid away, an' he lives by his lonesome a mile from de town. We
sneaks down dere, croaks de guy wid de queer monaker, an' beats it
wid de shekels--sure!"
Doc Madison turned a sad gray eye on the