"Nonsense!" Toffee replied seriously. "You two love each other, and I wouldn't have anything happen to that for the world. Julie just needed something to jar her out of her jealousy, and I think she's had it. When you get...." Toffee's voice trailed off into the distance, and Marc looked down to find that his arms were empty. She had vanished into the mist, it seemed. "Toffee! Toffee!" he called, but there was no answer, and, all of a sudden, he felt dreadfully alone. His sense of loss was deep and painful. Then the voice broke through the stillness. "Run! Run!" it boomed, just as before, and also as before, it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Run! Run!" it repeated, more urgently this time. Without questioning the reason, Marc began to run frantically, dodging this way and that, to avoid ... he didn't know what. Then, with horror, he realized that, in his confusion, he had run in the wrong direction, for the black fog was directly in front of him, reaching toward him. Marc turned, but too late. Already, it was shutting out the soft light of the valley. "Run! Run!" the voice continued weirdly. * * * * * "In the _runner_, there was a tear, lady," a strange voice was saying, "and he musta caught his toe in it. Anyway, we found him at the foot of the stairs. That's all I know about it." "Well, thank you very much for bringing him," Julie's voice answered. "I'm sure he'll be very grateful to you when he wakes up." There followed the sound of retreating footsteps and a door closing. Marc kept his eyes closed, and listened, until he heard Julie returning. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was glad to find that he was propped up in a chair in his own living room. "Well!" Julie exclaimed annoyedly, seeing that his eyes were open. "So you decided to wake up after all, did you? The men that just dragged you in here said that you'd fallen down a flight of stairs. What a laugh that is! Dead drunk, and out cold would be more like it!" "But I _did_ fall down," Marc protested feebly. "It's a wonder they didn't come hauling that vile little redhead in with you!" Julie said icily. "Where did she collapse?" "But you don't understand about her," Marc said desperately. "Hah!" snorted Julie, and the laugh that followed the inelegant exclamation was frozen solid around the edges. "But Julie," Marc pleaded wretchedly. "I...." "There's a gentleman waiting to see you, ma'am," Marie, the maid, interrupted. "His name is Mr. Dembert." "Send him in here," Julie said, a grim smile forming on her lips. "If it's someone to see you," Marc said apologetically, starting to rise, "I'll just go to my room." "Oh, no!" Julie cried. "This ought to be of great interest to you. I really wouldn't want you to miss it." "Very well," he said apprehensively, sinking back into the chair. In a moment, Marie appeared again in the doorway. "Mr. Dembert, ma'am," she announced, and swiftly disappeared.