eyes glassy, his fists clenched. The effort he was making to gain possession of his mental faculties was evident in his writhing mouth and wild staring eyes.
"What was it?" he demanded.
"It's all right," said Astro. "Beimer has the drawings; but we'll get them for you." He turned for the glass of water on the table.
The lieutenant clutched his arm in a fierce grip. "Gods!" he cried. "Help me! The papers were secret plans for fire control. Man, it's ruin for me!"
"You must drink this, first of all," Astro replied, holding the glass to the man's lips. "It's an emetic. We must get this hemp out of your stomach before you can recover."
It was too late. The lieutenant dropped back, now as rigid as a marble statue, only his wild eyes moving. He spoke painfully through his clenched teeth.
"Oh, God!" he murmured. "Take it away! I can't drink it! I'm going through hell!" His brow was furrowed with tense lines as he fought with the deathly nausea that was working in him.
Astro put down the glass and waited. It was evident that nothing could help now, and the drug which had thoroughly impregnated the man's system must work off its own effects.
"It works so—so fast . . . All black now . . . Oh, God! . . . I'm afraid! . . . Afraid . . ." He began to moan.
"You're all right; there's no danger. You're just a little sick, that's all."
"I'm dying! It's no use . . . Tell Violet . . . I'm dead . . . Don't you see, man? I'm dead al-
