n she brought it. Then he boarded the phantom ship that had
mysteriously appeared beside him and set sail upon the soundless sea
of night.

VI

"No," said the rent-a-mammakin, "you cannot see her. She is
displeased with your score in the get-rich-quick race."

"I did my best," the boy Mallory sobbed. "But when it came to stepping
on all those faces, I just couldn't do it!"

The rent-a-mammakin arranged its features into a severe frown and
strengthened its grip on the boy Mallory's arm. "You knew that they
were only painted on the game floor to symbolize the Competitive
Spirit," it said. "Why couldn't you step on them?"

The boy Mallory made a final desperate effort to gain the bedroom door
which his mother had just slammed and before which the rent-a-mammakin
stood, then he sank defeated to the floor. "I don't know why--I just
couldn't, that's all," he sobbed. He raised his voice. "But I _will_
step on them! I'll step on real faces too--just you wait and see. I'll
be a bigger get-rich-quickman than my father ever dreamed of being.
I'll show her!"

"I'll show her," the man Mallory murmured, "just you wait and see."

He opened his eyes. Save for himself, the bedroom-office was empty.
"Rowena?"

No answer.

He raised his voice. "Rowena!"

Again, no answer.

He frowned. The door to the bedroom-office was open, and the "castle"
certainly wasn't so large that his voice couldn't carry from one end
of it to the other.

His shoulder throbbed faintly, but otherwise he was unaware of his
wound. Rowena had bound it neatly--it was said that Age-of-Chivalry
gentlewomen were quite proficient in such matters--and apparently she
had once again got hold of the right counteragent.

He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. So far, so good.
Tentatively, he stood up. A wave of vertigo broke over him. After it
passed, he was as good as new. The blood-restorer pills had done their
work well.

Nevertheless, everything was not as it should be. Something was very
definitely wrong. "Rowena!" he called again.

Still no answer.

She had removed his armor and piled it neatly at the foot of the bed.
He stared at the various pieces, trying desperately to think.
Something had awakened him--that was it. The slamming of a door ... or
a lock.

He look a deep breath. He smelled green things. Dampness. A forest at
eventide....

He knew then what was wrong. The lock of the _Yore_ had been opened
and had been left open long enoug