How
to Mix 1001 Drinks, in which he had been seeking imaginary solace when
he fell asleep. Near his head ticked a pocket alarm clock, which they
found set to gong at two o'clock.

"It seems a shame to wake him," said Theodolinda. Her brown eyes
liquefied and effervesced with tenderness, until (as Bleak thought to
himself) they were quite the color of brandy and soda, without too much
soda.

The sleeper stirred, and a radiant smile passed over his unconscious
features--a smile of pure and heavenly beatitude.

"Say when, Jerry," he murmured.

"He's dreaming!" cried Theodolinda. "See, his soul is far away!"

"Two years away," said Bleak enviously. "Let him go to it while we
reconnoiter. I believe in the Prevention of Cruelty to Sleep. He didn't
intend to wake up just yet, you can see by the alarm clock."

"That's a good idea," she agreed. "I'd like to find out whether we're
in any immediate danger of pursuit."

They set the basket of food beside Quimbleton, and carefully moved on
through the strip of young trees until they neared the broad lawns that
surround the Home for Inebriates. Miss Chuff, spying delicately through
a leafy chink, gave a cry of alarm.

"Heavens!" she said. "The place is full of people!"

To their amazement, they saw the white banner of the Pan-Antis floating
on one of the towers of the building, and the grounds about the Home
blackened with a moving throng. Though they were too far distant to
discern any details of the crowd, it was plain (from the curious
to-and-fro of the gathering, like the seething of an ant-hill) that its
units were imbued with some strong emotion. At that distance it might
have been anger, or fear, or (more appropriate to the surroundings)
drink.

They hurried back to Quimbleton's hiding place, and found him already
sitting up and attacking the shrimp salad. Bleak courteously averted
his eyes from the affectionate embrace of the lovers.

"Bless your heart for this grub," said Quimbleton to Bleak. "As soon as
I smelt that shrimp salad I woke up. Do you know, I haven't eaten for
two days."

"Oh Virgil!" cried Theodolinda, "what does this mean--all the crowd
round the Home? Mr. Bleak and I looked up there, and the place is
simply packed. You can't stay undiscovered long with all those people
around. Who are they, anyway?"

Quimbleton had to delay his reply until deglutition had mastered a
bulky consignment of shrimp. His large, resolute face, while somewhat
marred