When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and aching head which usually follow either a drugged sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up on the sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around in blank surprise. Daylight was streaming in through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the gas was still burning with a dull, sickly light. The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night orgie. Several packs of cards were lying strewn over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. There were half-a-dozen tumblers--one nearly full, another broken into pieces--and several empty soda-water bottles lay on the floor. But the most ghastly sight of all was Cecil's face. He sat on a chair drawn up to the table, his chin fallen upon his folded arms, dark rims under his eyes, and without a single vestige of colour in his ashen face. There was no one else in the room. I sprang to my feet and hurried to his side. "Cecil! Cecil!" I cried. "What's the matter, old chap? Wake up, for Heaven's sake, and tell me what has happened!" He pulled himself together and struggled to his feet. Then he looked round the room and finally into my anxious face, with an odd little laugh, strained and unnatural. "I've about done it this time," he said. "By George! Let's clear out of this before Milly comes down. I shouldn't like her to know that we've been here all night. Poor little girl! She'd never forgive herself for letting us play here at all." "Where are the others?" I asked. "Fothergill has gone back to his hotel and Leonard went with him. I said I'd wake you and we'd follow directly, but I think I must have been dozing." "We must go, and at once," I said, "or we shall never be back before the doctor gets down. Come, Cecil! Don't tell me anything yet." I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the room. We crept softly down the passage and out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him questions and he seemed in no hurry to disclose what had happened, so we hurried along in silence, Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze which blew in our teeth when we had left the town behind us and had all the effect of a strong, invigorating tonic. At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and, glancing at Cecil, I saw the colour creeping back into his cheeks with every breath he took of the salt air which came sweeping across the sandy, barren country between us and the sea. When at last we reached our destination and had cautiously made our way up to the back entrance, he hesitated. Opposite to us was the pine-plantation, which led down to the sea, and between the thickly growing black trunks a curious light shone and glistened. I had lived all my life in the country and knew well what it was, but Cecil turned round and watched it with amazement. "Look, Phil!" he whispered. "What's that light? It seems as though the plantation were on fire!" "It's the sunrise," I answered. "Shall we go and see it?"