in the jungle. I felt ill the night I camped beneath it. I have never
felt quite well since. The nightmares began on that night; and the
nightmares have followed me home. This is the worst of all. Helen calls
me the Upas tree--the poisoner of her content. Utterly, preposterously,
altogether, selfish!"

He turned on the electric lights, and walked up and down the room, with
desperate, restless tread.

"Poisoning all it touches," he said. "Blasting the life of all who pass
beneath its deadly foliage--U,P,A,S--Upas."

He paused before the great mirror, gazing at his own reflection.

He put his face quite close to the glass, staring into his burning eyes.

Then he struck at the reflection with his clenched fist. "Upas tree!" he
snarled. "Take that, and be damned!"

He had hurt his knuckles. He walked back to the fire, rubbing them
carefully with his left hand.

"Poor old chap," he said. "It _is_ hard lines! You meant well; but all
the while you were a Upas tree. '_I, Helen, take thee, Upas, to be my
wedded husband_.' Poor lovely Helen! What a bargain!"

He sat down in a deep basket-chair, lighted a cigarette, pushed another
chair into position, exactly in front of him, with his foot; then
filling it, one by one, with friends of his own and Helen's, held
conversation with them.

"Quite right, my dear Mrs. Dalmain! You need not now confine yourself to
_looking_ your disapproval; you can _say_ exactly what you think. You
see, Helen herself has told me the worst truth of all. I am a Upas tree.
She sums me up thus: U, P, A, S! You can hardly beat that, Mrs. Dalmain.
In fact, you look distressed. I can see that your kind heart is sorry
for me. Helen said you were a wonderful person to turn to in trouble.
There is no one in the world quite like you. Well, now's your chance to
prove it; for surely nobody ever came to you in more desperate trouble.
If you wish to be really kind and comforting, talk to me of my wife. Say
how sweet and lovely she is. Say that her arms are tender, her eyes
gentle and kind. I am the thirsty traveller in the desert, who sights
pure water, hastens eagerly forward, and finds--a mirage! But a deadly
stream flows from the roots of the Upas--Hullo! Here comes Aubrey
Treherne. Look out, Mrs. Dalmain! He owes you a grudge. Hey, presto!
Vanish from the chair, or Helen's cousin will lean over, with a bleeding
face, threatening to kill you with both hands!...

"Good-evening, Cousin Aubrey. How is your