* * * * *

The tweed-clad young man stared in the direction of Reggie's pointing
finger, then he frowned and glanced down at Reggie.

"Any pink elephants, yet?"

"I'm not drunk," Reggie said indignantly. "That man has been following
me like a conga partner all afternoon."

The tall young man patted Reggie patiently on the shoulder.

"Sleep and rest will make a new man of you," he said. "Go home. Go to
bed. You've got hallucinations."

"Hallucinations!" Reggie cried over the din of the orchestra. "What do
you mean? Don't you see the man I mean? Right between the fat old man
and the girl with the red hair?"

The tweedish young man shook his head.

"The stool between the fat old man and the red-haired girl is completely
unoccupied," he said in the patient voice of a man instructing a very
young child.

Reggie shook his head bewilderedly. There was a sudden cold hollow in
the pit of his stomach. He opened and closed his mouth several times
without producing a sound.

"Are you serious?" he finally managed to gasp.

"Certainly," the young man answered. "There's no one on the bar stool
you left. You're just seeing things. Take my advice and go home. You've
had too much giggle water."

Reggie set his drink down hastily. For a long deliberate moment he
studied the back of the dark little man at the bar. Then he shook his
head dazedly. Maybe this was all some wild product of his imagination.
Maybe he _was_ having hallucinations....

He shook his head again and then he shook hands with the young man in
the tweed suit.

"I'm going home, Ricky," he said firmly. "Say hello to all the gang for
me."

"Name isn't Ricky," the young man said, sipping from his drink, "but
I'll tell the boys you were asking."

"Good," Reggie said.

He left the crowded bar by a back entrance. The warm sunshine was
pleasant and reassuring. People hurried past him, traffic surged in the
streets, and everything was quite normal. He breathed a deep sigh and
hailed a cab. He gave the driver the address of his apartment and then
settled back against the soft leather cushions.

Sleep was all he needed. That was all.

* * * * *

When he reached his apartment on the near North Side he had succeeded in
convincing himself that his peculiar experiences of the afternoon were
only products of his fevered imagination.

As he let himself into his apartment he had firmly resolved to strict