Transvestia

looking people were his friends, and some were not.

But all these facts were unknown to young John Caravelle on a certain summer afternoon as he stepped quietly from his library, heaved the heavy door shut, locked it with a curious-shaped key, double-locked it with a special sound-lock, and sauntered homewards. He was looking forward to putting on a complete femi- nine outfit, to cooking a dainty feminine meal for him- self in his bachelor-girl kitchen, and relaxing before the fire with a good book on astro-physics. So lost was he in these delightful thoughts that his slim form mov- ed like a sleep-walker's, and his delicate face, slight- ly flushed but inscrutable, was like a sleeping child's.

Guided by habit, and quite unconscious of the path beneath his feet, he mounted the steps towards his front door. Just as he reached for the lock he step- ped on some ball-bearings which someone had scattered all over the landing. His feet fled from the floor like startled pigeons; with the unreal tranquility of a dream he felt himself falling, saw himself clutch wildly at the handrail and, missing it, bump heavily on the floor.

Wide awake now, he jumped up quickly and glan- ced along the street to see if anyone had noticed his mishap. To his annoyance he discovered that the driv- er and co-driver of an ambulance, which had been park- ed across the street were running towards him carry- ing a stretcher. Are you all right, sir?" one of the m called anxiously.

"Perfectly all right, thank you."

However, they continued to approach. "Pretty nasty fall, that,' said one. "If I was you, sir, I'd let the doctor here have a look at you just to be on the safe side, like." He jerked his thumb towards a gentleman who, carrying a black bag, was already on his way up the steps, closely followed by the girl next door.

'Good afternoon, said the doctor kindly. "I hap- pened to be passing just as you took that tumble. Per-