The two went out together, and walked to the drug store on the corner of
Blank Street and Nemo Avenue.

"Do you know this writing?" said Doctor Roland to the druggist, pointing
to the label on the box.

"Yes," answered the druggist; "that was written by one of my
assistants."

"Can we see him for a few moments?"

"I don't know where he is to be found. He is a worthless fellow, and has
gone to the devil this last few weeks with a rapidity that is something
startling."

"When did he leave?"

"Well, he got drunk and stayed drunk during the holidays, and I had to
discharge him. He was a very valuable man when he was sober; but he
began to be so erratic in his habits that I was afraid he would make a
ghastly mistake some time, so I discharged him before it was too late."

"Are you sure you discharged him before it was too late?"

The druggist looked at the doctor, whom he knew well, and said, "I never
heard of any mistake, if he did make it."

"You keep a book, of course, of all the prescriptions sent out?"