“Whew! He was a slicker! Gave you Pau-Ho, eh?”
“I’ll tell the world! That carnation smell cinched it. He was giving me the full works. A capsule full. If I’d drank that highball, Uncle, I’d have passed into the sleep of the Seven Sleepers till about 5 o’clock next day—and then had to be carted off to the indigent ward in that Oahu Nut House in School Street—till I got my damned wits back, exactly 41 or 42 days, or so, later!”
“But why? Somebody would have identified you. As George Stannard, of Boston.”
“I fear not, Uncle. I’d just been clean-shaven, remember. And, if I’d drank that stuff and fallen asleep, the fellow would undoubtedly have taken, in addition to my money, my tortoise-shell spectacles that I’d been wearing around Honolulu—wearing, you see, because of the slightly tinted g
