unt? If it was your friend I saw, he impressed me
disagreeably. How did you pick him up?"

Cavenaugh looked gloomy. "That was queer, too. Charley Burke and I
had motored out to Long Beach, about a year ago, sometime in
October, I think. We had supper and stayed until late. When we were
coming home, my car broke down. We had a lot of girls along who had
to get back for morning rehearsals and things; so I sent them all
into town in Charley's car, and he was to send a man back to tow me
home. I was driving myself, and didn't want to leave my machine. We
had not taken a direct road back; so I was stuck in a lonesome,
woody place, no houses about. I got chilly and made a fire, and was
putting in the time comfortably enough, when this old party steps
up. He was in shabby evening clothes and a top hat, and had on his
usual white gloves. How he got there, at three o'clock in the
morning, miles from any town or railway, I'll leave it to you to
figure out. _He_ surely had no car. When I saw him coming up to the
fire, I disliked him. He had a silly, apologetic walk. His teeth
were chattering, and I asked him to sit down. He got down like a
clothes-horse folding up. I offered him a cigarette, and when he
took off his gloves I couldn't help noticing how knotted and spotty
his hands were. He was asthmatic, and took his breath with a wheeze.
'Haven't you got anything--refreshing in there?' he asked, nodding
at the car. When I told him I hadn't, he sighed. 'Ah, you young
fellows are greedy. You drink it all up. You drink it all up, all
up--up!' he kept chewing it over."

Cavenaugh paused and looked embarrassed again. "The thing that was
most unpleasant is difficult to explain. The old man sat there by
the fire and leered at me with a silly sort of admiration that
was--well, more than humiliating. 'Gay boy, gay dog!' he would
mutter, and when he grinned he showed his teeth, worn and
yellow--shells. I remembered that it was better to talk casually to
insane people; so I remarked carelessly that I had been out with a
party and got stuck.

"'Oh yes, I remember,' he said, 'Flora and Lottie and Maybelle and
Marcelline, and poor Kate.'

"He had named them correctly; so I began to think I had been hitting
the bright waters too hard.

"Things I drank never had seemed to make me woody; but you can never
tell when trouble is going to hit you. I pulled my hat down and
tried to look as uncommunicative as possible; but he kept croaking
on fr