A silence then; and then a voice--a man's voice: "I told you you were
crazy. He felt dizzy and went out into the street for some fresh air.
You shouldn't 've left him once he got the stuff into him. Take a look
round the block. He's probably laying in the gutter somewhere with that
load into him."

The voice stopped, footsteps followed, the stairs creaked. And Jan's
tortured stomach was allowed its relief. And while he retched in the
dark Mrs. Goles held his head and, soaking a towel in the water jar,
bathed his forehead and face and neck, and kept wetting the towel and
bathing his head with the cold water until at last, with a grateful
sigh, Jan stood up and said:

"I think it's all gone now."

"That's good. So I'll be leaving you. And you--" They had been talking
in whispers, but at this point her voice broke into a cough. When she
spoke again her voice was husky and pitched in a higher key. "But
you--listen! You must leave this house!"

"Why must I leave?"

"It's no place for you."

"And is it for you, ma'am?" he asked her.

"For me? No--nor for any woman. But I'm talking about you.
To-morrow--don't say a word to him downstairs--but to-morrow, when your
week's up, take your grip and walk out."