ud of struggling figures. He heard the bailiff's voice booming,
"Come now, sir, this won't do; I am surprised at a gentleman like you!"
and his father's answer, incoherent, shaken with rage and shame. Then
he must have found his way upstairs. He never remembered how he got
there, but he was lying in his bed, in all his clothes, his head hidden
beneath the blankets, twitching from head to foot as though his body
had gone mad.

Downstairs the lock of the front door clicked. There was something
steadfast and reassuring in the sound, as though it were trying to send
a message. "Don't worry, I shall come back." But Robert could not
feel or care any more. He was struggling with his body as a helpless
rider struggles with a frantic runaway horse. He found out for the
first time that his body wasn't himself at all. It was something else.
It did what it wanted to. He could only cling on to it for dear life.
But gradually it seemed to weaken, to yield to his exhausted efforts at
control, and at last lay stretched out, relaxed, drenched with an icy
sweat. The real himself sank into seas of darkness from which
convulsive, tearing shudders, less and less frequent, dragged him, with
throbbing heart and starting eyes, back to the surface.

His bandage had slipped off. He held it tight between his hands. He
was too numb and stupefied even to think of Francey, but there was
magic in that dirty, blood-stained handkerchief. It might have been a
saint's relic, or a Red Indian's totem, preserving him from evil. He
knew nothing about saints or totems, but he knew that Francey was good
and stronger than any of them.

Downstairs the silence remained unbroken. It was an aghast silence,
heavy with remorse and shame and self-loathing. It was like the thick
dregs lying at the bottom of the cup. But to Robert it was just
silence. He sank into it, deeper and deeper, until he slept.

He began to dream. The dreams walked about inside his brain, and were
red-coloured as though they were lit up by the glow of a hidden
furnace. All the people who took part in them came and went in great
haste. Or they made up hurried tableaux--Francey holding the stick and
looking at him in white anger, Christine huddled on the floor, his
father black and monstrous towering over her. Finally, they all
disappeared together, and Robert knew that it was because the Dragon
had woken up and was coming to devour them. He was climbing up from
the din