She burst into tears, fled upstairs and I heard her slam and lock our bedroom door. I put that puzzle together again and the likeness of that hungry, filthy child in the picture to our Amy made my heart ache. I found a stout box, cut two pieces of straw-board just the shape of the puzzle and a trifle larger, laid one on top of it and slid the other under it. Then I tied it together with string and wrapped it in paper and tied the whole. I put the box in my overcoat pocket and went out carrying the flat parcel. I walked round to MacIntyre’s. I told him the whole story and showed him the puzzle. “Do you want the truth?” he asked. “Just that,” I said. “Well,” he reported. “You are as overstrung as she is and the same way. There is absolutely no picture on either side of this. One side is solid green and the other solid pink.” “How about the coincidence of the names on the box?” I interjected. “One suited what I saw, one what she said she saw.” “Let’s look at the box,” he suggested. He looked at it on all sides. “There’s not a letter on it,” he announced. “Except ‘picture puzzle’ on top and ‘50 cents’ on the end.” “I don’t feel insane,” I declared. “You aren’t,” he reassured me. “Nor in any danger of being insane. Let me look you over.” He felt my pulse, looked at my tongue, examined both eyes with his ophthalmoscope, and took a drop of my blood. “I’ll report further,” he said, “in confirmation to-morrow. You’re all right, or nearly so, and you’ll soon be really all right. All you need is a little rest. Don’t worry about this idea of your wife’s, humor her. There won’t be any terrible consequences. After Christmas go to Florida or somewhere for a week or so. And don’t exert yourself from now till after that change.” When I reached home, I went down into the cellar, threw that puzzle and its box into the furnace and stood and watched it burn to ashes. III When I came upstairs from the furnace Helen met me as if nothing had happened. By one of her sudden revulsions of mood she was even more gracious than usual, and was at dinner altogether charming. She did not refer to our quarrel or to the puzzle. The next morning over our breakfast we were both opening our mail. I had told her that I should not go to the office until after Christmas and that I wanted her to arrange for a little tour that would please her. I had phoned to the office not to expect me until after New Year’s. My mail contained nothing of moment. Helen looked up from hers with an expression curiously mingled of disappointment, concern and a pleased smile.