HARRY MORGAN-WINTER hotel, to the street that led to jungle town, the big unpainted frame house with lights and the girls in the doorway, the mechanical piano going, and a sailor sitting in the street; and then on back, past the back of the brick courthouse with its clock luminous at half-past ten, past the whitewashed jail building shining in the moonlight, to the embowered entrance of the Lilac Time where motor cars filled the alley. The Lilac Time was brightly lighted and full of people, and as Richard Gordon went in he saw the gambling room was crowded, the wheel turning and the little ball clicking brittle against metal partitions set in the bowl, the wheel turning slowly, the ball whirring, then clicking jumpily until it settled and there was only the turning of the wheel and the rattling of chips. At the bar, the proprietor who was serving with two bartenders, said "Allo. 'Allo. Mist' Gordon. What you have?' 'I don't know,' said Richard Gordon. 'You don't look good. Whatsa matter? You don't feel good?3 'No.' 'I fix you something just fine. Fix you up hokay. You ever try a Spanish absinthe, ojeri?9 'Go ahead,' said Gordon. 'You drink him you feel good. Want to fight any- body in a house,' said the proprietor. 'Make Mistah Gordon a ojen special/ Standing at the bar, Richard Gordon drank three ojen specials but he felt no better; the opaque.