“The Mayor shut his eyes slowly and began to snore.
“‘You observe， Mr. Tiddle，’ says I， ‘the wonders ofmodern science.’
“‘Biddle，’ says he， ‘When will you give uncle the rest ofthe treatment， Dr. Pooh-pooh？’
“‘Waugh-hoo，’ says I. ‘I’ll come back at eleven tomorrow.
When he wakes up give him eight drops of
turpentine and three pounds of steak. Good morning.’
“The next morning I was back on time. ‘Well， Mr.
Riddle，’ says I， when he opened the bedroom door， ‘andhow is uncle this morning？’
“‘He seems much better，’ says the young man.
“The mayor’s color and pulse was fine. I gave him anothertreatment， and he said the last of the pain left him.
“‘Now，’ says I， ‘you’d better stay in bed for a day or two，and you’ll be all right. It’s a good thing I happened to bein Fisher Hill， Mr. Mayor，’ says I， ‘for all the remediesin the cornucopia that the regular schools of medicineuse couldn’t have saved you. And now that error has flewand pain proved a perjurer， let’s allude to a cheerfullersubject—say the fee of 250. No checks， please， I hate towrite my name on the back of a check almost as bad as Ido on the front.’
“‘I’ve got the cash here，’ says the mayor， pulling a pocketbook from under his pillow.
“He counts out five fifty-dollar notes and holds ’em inhis hand.
“‘Bring the receipt，’ he says to Biddle.
“I signed the receipt and the mayor handed me themoney. I put it in my inside pocket careful.
“‘Now do your duty， officer，’ says the mayor， grinningmuch unlike a sick man.
“Mr. Biddle lays his hand on my arm.
“‘You’re under arrest， Dr. Waugh-hoo， alias Peters，’ sayshe， ‘for practising medicine without authority under theState law.’
“‘Who are you？’ I asks.
“‘I’ll tell you who he is，’ says Mr. Mayor， sitting up inbed. ‘He’s a detective employed by the State MedicalSociety. He’s been following you over five counties. Hecame to me yesterday and we fixed up this scheme tocatch you. I guess you won’t do any more doctoring aroundthese parts， Mr. Fakir. What was it you said I had， doc？’
the mayor laughs， ‘compound—well， it wasn’t softening ofthe brain， I guess， anyway.’
“‘A detective，’ says I.
“‘Correct，’ says Biddle. ‘I’ll have to turn you over to thesheriff.’
“‘Let’s see you do it，’ says I， and I grabs Biddle by thethroat and half throws him out the window， but he pullsa gun and sticks it under my chin， and I stand still. Thenhe puts handcuffs on me， and takes the money out of mypocket.
“‘I witness，’ says he， ‘that they’re the same bank billsthat you and I marked， Judge Banks. I’ll turn them over tothe sheriff when we get to his office， and he’ll send you areceipt. They’ll have to be used as evidence in the case.’
“‘All right， Mr. Biddle，’ says the mayor. ‘And now， DocWaugh-hoo，’ he goes on， ‘why don’t you demonstrate？
Can’t you pull the cork out of your magnetism with yourteeth and hocus-pocus them handcuffs off？’
“‘Come on， officer，’ says I， dignified. ‘I may as well makethe best of it.’ And then I turns to old Banks and rattlesmy chains.
“‘Mr. Mayor，’ says I， ‘the time will come soon when you’llbelieve that personal magnetism is a success. And you’ll besure that it succeeded in this case， too.’
“And I guess it did.
“When we got nearly to the gate， I says： ‘We might meetsomebody now， Andy. I reckon you better take ’em off，and—’ Hey？ Why， of course it was Andy Tucker. That washis scheme； and that’s how we got the capital to go intobusiness together.”