suffocation seized him. With a sharp effort of will he controlled himself and got to his feet.

“By God, it came up in my mouth and I chewed it,” he muttered. “I chewed it.”

Returning across the patio by the round-about way, he entered the lighted room jauntily enough, camera in hand, and unprepared for the reception he received.

“Seen a ghost?” Lute greeted.

“Are you sick?” — ”What’s the matter?” were other questions.

“What is the matter?” he countered.

“Your face — the look of it,” Ernestine said. “Something has happened. What is it?”