Past dawn the wakeful slept, the sleeper awoke. His eyes sought the familiar little pyramid of gear on the shelf in the corner, the bright tins below, the round porthole, the line of distemper running along the walls, the closed and solid smallness of a cell. And the blood left his heart. They weren’t there! His whole being struggled with such unreality. He was in a room staring at light coming through chintz curtains. His arms were not naked. This was a sheet! For a moment he shivered, uncertain of everything; then lay back, smiling at a papered ceiling. III 1 § “It can’t go on, Mother. It simply can’t. I feel an absolute worm whenever I’m with him. I shall have to clear out, like Beryl. He has just one object all the time--to make everyone feel small and mean.” “Remember what he’s been through!” “I don’t see why _we_ should be part of his revenge. We’ve done nothing, except suffer through him.” “He doesn’t want to hurt us or anyone.” “Well, whenever people talk to him they dry up at once, as if he’d skinned them. It’s a disease.” “One can only pity him.” “He’s perfectly happy, Mother. He’s getting his own back.” “If only that first night----” “We tried. It’s no good. He’s absolutely self-sufficient. What about to-morrow night?” “We can’t leave him on Christmas Day, Jack.” “Then we must take him to Beryl’s. I can’t stick it here. Look! He’s just going out!” Late--299 passed the window where they stood, loping easily, a book under his arm. “He must have seen us. We mightn’t exist!...” 2 § Late--299, with a book under his arm, entered Kew Gardens and sat down on a bench. A nursery governess with her charges came and settled down beside him. “Peter, Joan, and Michael,” said Late--299, “quite in the fashion, for names.” The governess stirred uneasily; the gentleman looked funny, smiling there! “And what are you teaching them?” “Reading, writing, and arithmetic, sir, and Bible stories.” “Intelligent?... Ah! Not very. Truthful?... No! No children are.” The governess twisted her hands. “Peter!” she said, “where’s your ball? We must go and look for it.” “But I’ve got it, Miss Somers.” “Oh, well, it’s too sharp, sitting here. Come along!” She passed away, and Peter, Joan, and Michael trailed after her. Late--299 smiled on; and a Pekinese, towing a stout old lady, smelled at his trousers. “It’s my cat,” said Late--299. “Dogs and cats their pleasure is----” Picking up the Pekinese, the stout old lady pressed it under her arm as though it were a bagpipe, and hurried on like a flustered goose. Some minutes passed. A workman and his wife sat down beside him, and gazed at the Pagoda. “Queer building!” said Late--299. “Ah!” said the workman. “Japanese, they say!” “Chinese, my friend. Good people, the Chinese--no regard for human life.” “What’s that? Good--did you say?” “Quite!” “Eh?” The workman’s wife peered round him. “Come on, John! The sun gits in me eyes ’ere.”