e against. Ember took laughing
compassion upon him and led him forthwith to a bedroom furnished with
the rigid simplicity of a summer camp. Once abed he lay awake only long
enough to recognize, in the pulsating quiet, the restless thunder of
surf on the beach across the bay. Then he slept round the clock.

He recovered consciousness to lie luxuriating in the sensation of
delicious and complete repose, and to listen lazily to the drum of
raindrops on the low roof--too lazy, indeed, to turn his head and
consult his watch. Yet he knew it must be late in the morning, for the
light was broad, if gray.

The shrill, imperative rattle of a telephone bell roused him more
thoroughly. Lifting on his elbow, he eyed his watch, then hastily swung
his legs out of bed; for it was nearly ten o'clock.

As he dressed he could hear the voice of Ember in the living-room
talking over the telephone. Presently there came a tap at his door, and
his host entered.

"Up, eh?" he said cheerfully. "I was afraid I'd have to wake you. You're
surely a sincere young sleeper.... I say!" His smile vanished beneath
the clouds of an impatient frown. "This is the devil of a note: I've got
to leave you."

"What's the trouble?"

"That's what I'm called upon to find out. A friend of mine's in a tight
place, and I've got to go and help pull him through. He just called me
up--and I can't refuse. D'you mind being left alone for a day or so?"

"Certainly not--only I'm sorry."

"No more than I. But I'll try to get back to-morrow. If I don't, the
next day--or as soon as I possibly can. Meanwhile, please consider
yourself lord and master here. Sum Fat will take good care of you.
Anything you want, just ask him. Now I've got to get into waterproofs:
it's raining like all get-out, but I can't wait for a let-up."

By the time Whitaker was ready for breakfast, his host had splashed off
to his motor car.

Later, while Sum Fat crooned to himself over the dish-pan in the
kitchen, Whitaker explored his quarters; to begin with, not in the least
disconsolate to be left alone. The place had for his imagination the
zest of novelty and isolation. He rather enjoyed the sensation of
complete dissociation from the rest of the world, of freedom to humour
his idlest whim without reference to the prejudices of any neighbour.

Within-doors there was every comfort conceivably to be desired by any
other than a sybarite; without--viewed from the shelter of a wide
veranda--a va