wo more gulps. Sarakoff did the same. It was something in the
nature of a battle against an invisible resistance. I gripped the table
hard with my free hand, and took another gulp.

"Sarakoff," I gasped. "I can't take any more. If you want to get alcohol
into my system you must inject it under my skin. I can't do it this
way."

He put down his glass. It was half full. There were beads of
perspiration on his brow.

"I'll finish that glass somehow," he observed. He passed his hand across
his forehead. "This is extraordinary. It's just like taking poison,
Harden, and yet it is an excellent brand of wine."

"Do get these oysters taken away," I said. "They serve no purpose lying
here. They only take up room."

"Wait till I finish my glass."

With infinite trouble he drank the rest of the champagne. The effort
tired him. He sat, breathing quickly and staring before him.

"That's a pretty woman," he observed. "I did not notice her before."

I followed the direction of his gaze. A young woman, dressed in emerald
green, sat at a table against the opposite wall. She was talking very
excitedly, making many gestures and seemed to me a little intoxicated.

Sarakoff poured out some more champagne.

"I am getting back," he muttered. He looked like a man engaged in some
terrific struggle with himself. His breath was short and thick, his eyes
were reddened. Perspiration covered his face and hands. He finished the
second glass.

"Yes, she is pretty," he said, "I like that white skin against the
brilliant green. She's got grace, too. Have you noticed white-skinned
women always are graceful, and have little ears, Harden?"

He laughed suddenly, with his old boisterousness and clapped me on the
shoulder.

"This is the way out!" he shouted, and pointed to the silver tub that
contained the champagne bottle.

His voice sounded loudly above the music.

"The way out!" he repeated. He got to his feet. His eyes were congested.
The sweat streamed down his cheeks. "Here," he called in his deep
powerful voice, "here, all you who are afraid--here is the way out." He
waved his arms. People stopped drinking and talking to turn and stare at
him. "Back to the animals!" he shouted. "Back to the fur and hair and
flesh! I was up on the mountain top, but I've found the way back. Here
it is--here is the magic you need, if you're tired of the frozen
heights!"

He swayed as he spoke. Strangely interested, I stared up at him.

"He's delirious