The Oriental Gardens were empty and dark. The gay crowd had departed; the lights were extinguished. Only the light in Ilam’s drawing-room shone across the expanse as it had shone through all the evening. Carpentaria’s own bungalow was dark. He wondered what Juliette was doing. At length he set off home through the gardens. And just as he was entering his front-door he recollected that he had given no instructions about the drunken man in the enclosure. He turned back down the steps, and went into the enclosure and struck a match. The man was lying on the ground, no doubt asleep. “Well, this is a caution!” he muttered. A notion occurred to him, one of his fanciful pranks. He picked up the unconscious man, who held himself stiff and did not even groan, and carried him, not with too much difficulty--for Carpentaria was extremely powerful--to the side-door of Ilam’s residence; he placed the form against the door. Every night for weeks past Ilam had come out by that door about midnight to take a final stroll of inspection. He felt that he owed Ilam a grudge. Then he retired into the shadow and waited. Presently the door opened, and Ilam fell over the man, as Carpentaria hoped he would, and picked himself up with oaths and struck a match and gazed at the form. At the same instant a woman’s figure passed Carpentaria in the dark. He was surprised to recognize Juliette. He touched her. “Oh!” she cried softly, starting back. “Why do you start like that?” he demanded. “You--you--frightened me,” she said. He escorted her into their house. When he came out again Ilam was descending the steps by the side door. Nothing lay near the door. “Seen anything of a drunken man?” Carpentaria called out. “No,” said Ilam, after a pause. “Not near your door?” “No. Why?” “Oh, nothing. Only I thought I saw one.” “Good night,” growled Ilam, but instead of taking the air he returned abruptly to the house. CHAPTER VI--The Black Burden Curious! Carpentaria meditated as he retired to his abode. “Having fallen over a man lying drunk on his steps, why should my friend and partner, Mr. Josephus Ilam, totally deny that he has seen a drunken man? With my own eyes I saw him tumble. Now this mishap must have made Mr. Josephus Ilam angry, because he is just the sort of person who does get angry upon the provocation of a pure accident. Yet, so far as I could judge in the gloom, there was no trace of anger in his demeanour when he answered my question. On the contrary, he appeared to be rather subdued. “And further--what has become of my friend the drunken man? The drunken man must exist somewhere. Is he in Ilam’s house? And, if so, why is he in Ilam’s house? Neither Josephus nor his mother is precisely a type of the Good Samaritan. And if he is not in Ilam’s house, has he suddenly recovered and walked away on his legs unaided? Impossible! I was once drunk, and I say, impossible. Then, has Josephus carried him somewhere? And where has he carried him, and why?”