ntal
fool. Garman was right: dreams, ideals, high hopes were only
illusions, only lies, fairy-like mirages to lead a man into the barren
desert of experience. The note in his pocket proved it. He read the
note over and over again.

"Come to-night, Annette."

His laughter each time he scanned the words was a mirthless expression
of despair. Garman was right. Garman had won.

"Willy," he asked, "where is Palm Island?"

"Little lake in woods down there." Willy pointed into the darkness
toward the timber line that marked the western boundary of the sand
prairie. "Island in lake."

"Is it far?"

"Yes, many mile in woods."

"All right, Willy. Go to bed."

XXXIV

Roger came upon the little lake in the woods just as the dawn was
coating its waters with a thick purple. He saw a canoe pulled upon the
beach and paddled out to the island. A circle of stately royal palms,
their tops gorgeously golden in the sun's first rays, their smooth
trunks still black, with the darkness of night, ringed the island
round. Within the circle of palms was a luxurious tangle of tropical
plants, of flowers, of lazily drooping vines. Payne followed a winding
path through the odorous jungle and came to the tiny bungalow hidden in
the heart of it all.

"Garman!" he called hoarsely; and by the manner in which his voice
echoed in the stillness he knew no living being was about the place.

He entered softly, almost fearing to find the signs he sought. One of
Garman's large cigars, lighted and thrown away after a few puffs, lay
on the verandah. The place inside was a wreck. Broken furniture,
shattered glass, torn curtains and bedding, lay about in aimless
disorder, as if some wild animal had run amuck there tearing and
trampling to pieces all it touched. Windows and frames had been
smashed with terrific blows. There were dents in the floor where it
had been beaten furiously with an iron bedpost.

Roger came out and tried to think. What had happened? Had Garman
deliriously celebrated his triumph in an orgy of destruction? There
was no sign of a struggle. He left the island hurriedly.

The morning sun was high in the heavens when Roger emerged from the
woods onto the prairie on his way back to Garman's house. He followed
no path. He was running head down, seeing and hearing nothing. He
smashed through a clump of palmetto scrubs into an opening of barren
white sand, and from another thicket came Garman, a rifle