“Yes,” said Philip steadily.  “God help me, I do.”

Carl flung himself upon the floor, torn by great dry sobs of agony.  Shaking, Philip turned away.  Presently Carl grew quieter and fell to pouring forth an incoherent recital about a candlestick.  From the meaningless raving of the white, drawn lips came at last a single sentence of lucid revelation.  Philip leaped and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

“Carl, think! think!” he cried fiercely.  “For God’s sake, think!  You—­don’t know what you are saying!”

But Carl repeated the statement again and again, and Philip’s eyes grew sombre.  With quick, keen questions he reduced the chaotic yarn to order.

The wild tale at an end, Carl fell back, limp and very tired.

“In God’s name,” thundered practical Philip, “why didn’t you look in the other candlestick?”

Carl stared.  Then suddenly without a word of warning, he pitched forward senseless upon the floor.

Philip loosened his clothing, rubbed his icy hands and limbs and bathed his forehead, but the interval was long and trying before the stark figure on the floor shuddered slightly and struggled weakly to a sitting posture.

“I’m all right now,” said Carl dully.  “And I’ve got to go on.  I—­I can’t meet Diane.”  He drew something from his pocket and jabbed it in his arm.

Philip looked on with disapproval.

“No,” said Carl, meeting his glance.  “No, not so very often, Philip.  Just lately, since Sherrill and I camped in the Glades.  There’s something—­something very tight here in my head whenever I grow excited.  When it snaps I’m done for a while, but this helps.”

Philip’s fine, frank mouth was very grim.

“Carl,” he said quietly, “off there to the south is the eccentric swamp home of a singular man, a philosopher and a doctor.  He’s Keela’s foster father.  I’ve met and smoked with him.  I want you to go to him and rest.  The Indians do that.  He’s what you need.  And tell him you’re down and out.  You’ll go—­for me?”

“Anywhere,” said Carl.

“Tell him about the dope and every other hell-conceived abuse with which you’ve tormented your body.  Tell him about the infernal tightness in your head.”

“Yes,” said Carl.

“But this thing of the candlestick,” added Philip bitterly, “tell to no man.  You’re strong enough to start now?”

“Yes.”

Philip left the wigwam.  When at length he returned, there was a dark, slight figure at his heels, turbaned and tunicked, a guide whom he trusted utterly.

A burning wave swept suddenly over Carl’s body and left him very cold.  Philip could not know, of course.

“Keela will guide you,” said Philip.  “She could follow the trail with her eyes closed.  The horses are saddled at the edge of camp.  You’ll be there by daylight.”