He moved away, investigating. A sluggish black stream wound through the jungle; curious, Hendriks walked toward it. Dark logs lay strewn almost at random in the shallow muddy water at the sides of the stream. But as he watched, one of the logs yawned, showing a double row of deadly teeth, and slid sleepily off into deeper waters. Crocodiles. Death threatened everywhere in the jungle. Monkeys chittered overhead; bright-plumaged birds flapped from tree to tree. Hendriks felt the heat, his nostrils drew in the smell. This was real. He wondered if it would ever end, if he would ever return to his neat little city apartment and to his wife and children. He glanced away from the stream, looked up at the sun blazing in the bright blue sky. And abruptly black death came roaring at him from a tree. Hendriks had just a moment to recognize it. A leopard, black, sleek, moving with the easy grace of a machine designed for killing. He toppled backward under the impetus of the beast's furious attack, smelled the soft musky smell of the killer. Then claws reached for his throat. Hot barbs of red pain shot through him. He screamed out, fought, tried to hold the snapping jaws away. "No! No! It isn't real! Get away from me!" And in that instant Africa vanished. * * * * * "THE SECOND ILLUSION," that soft voice next to his ear said. He was again alone, in an unfamiliar room. A lady's boudoir, he saw. A satin-covered spread lay over a wide, inviting bed; dressing-tables were laden with perfumes and cosmetics. Behind him the door opened. A woman entered. He had never seen her before. She was tall, dressed only in a filmy negligee that barely concealed her long sleek legs, her firm breasts. She was all he had ever wanted in a woman; she awakened desires that had been dead in him for twenty years. "Hello," she said. Her voice was throbbingly throaty. "I've waited a long time for you, Paul Hendriks." _How did she know my name? How_-- Then he stopped asking questions. She had glided close to him, stood there, bosom gently rising and falling, looking into his eyes. She was nearly as tall as he. He smelled her enticing perfume. "Come," she said, taking his hand. She led him toward a chaise lounge. He frowned. "But my wife ..." he murmured, feeling like seventeen different kinds of idiot as he said the words. "Your wife is happy where she is. Come to me, Paul." She drew him down beside her.... What seemed like hours went by. Suddenly he felt a rough hand grab him, awakening him. A stranger stood there, fully dressed, menace glinting in his eyes. "Who is this man, Louise?" he demanded. Wide-eyed shock was evident on the woman's face. "But--I didn't expect you until--" "Of course not." Hendriks watched in horror as the newcomer drew a gun from his pocket. He lifted it; the barrel seemed to point directly at Hendriks' eyes. The finger began to tighten on the trigger-- * * * * *