John raised his head. "Well?" he asked.
I leaned over and laid my hands on his shoulder. "You are to promise me to chuck drinking and gambling, John. No more spirits—not a drop. And nothing bigger than a game of bridge—or schoolboy poker. Is it a go?"
He choked back a sob. "I'll pledge my word, Frank," he said.
"Shake," said I. He shoved out his hand.
"Now," said I, "let me say a few words to Edith and then I'm off."
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To get under cover somewhere. I haven't decided."
"How are you off for money?"
"I've got enough. If I need more I may write to you."
John raised up in his bed. His eyes were shining through his tears. He said a good many things that have nothing to do with the yarn. Finally he said:
"Look here, Frank, why not hand over all of this to the police?"
"I've thought of that," I answered. "It wouldn't do. I'd get the enmity of a powerful criminal organisation and wouldn't live twenty-four hours. But there are other ways. I know the Under-World and its antidotes. There are unofficial means of checkmating this desperado—a secret service. There is no time to explain, as I've got a lot to do. But I hope to have this Chu-Chu person checkmated before many days. You leave it to me. But remember one thing; if Edith ever gets a
