Then Fred knew. He spoke suddenly. "You're a psychiatrist." The pieces fell into place. Fred's father had mentioned this man several times, and the boy knew he was not there by chance--that his mother had contacted the psychiatrist--this particular one because she too had remembered the acquaintanceship. For a moment, Fred was annoyed with his mother. Why on earth had she brought a psychiatrist into this? Then he softened as he realized she felt it to be to her son's best interests. "Yes, I'm a psychiatrist," Gaard said. Then, as though he could read Fred's mind: "Your mother _did_ send for me, but so far as I'm concerned, it's more than just a professional visit. I knew your father and liked him. I'd like to be your friend." "You plan to psychoanalyze me?" "Don't be so grim about it," Curt Gaard smiled. "Just let's make this a social visit. There will be plenty of time for other things later. Perhaps you can drop in at my office." "Perhaps," Fred said, almost absently. A short time later he excused himself and went to his room. * * * * * "Mrs. Grant?" Mr. Browne said, smiling at the woman behind the screen door. "I'm Mr. Browne the publisher." "Browne?" she said. "Oh yes. My hus--husband has mentioned you." "Favorably, I hope?" Browne was wondering if Dr. Grant had told her of his decision not to let the book be published. "Oh yes, very favorably." She frowned. "Which reminds me. He received a check from you for the advance royalties. I'm sure he didn't cash it because there was no deposit at the bank that large. I can't find the check anywhere. He must have had it with him when--" She had opened the screen door. Browne went in and followed her into the study. He looked around at the walls of books, almost feeling the presence of the man whose retreat this had been. "That's what I've come here to see you about," Browne said. "You see, he called on me at my office the morning of the day he vanished." "He did?" "Yes. I'm going to be quite frank with you. He returned the check to me." "Why? He said nothing to me about it." "I rather imagine he didn't have time. I've waited, knowing you wouldn't care to discuss business so soon after--" He waited for her reaction. When she said nothing he continued. "He returned the check and said he didn't want the book published after all. I couldn't quite understand his reasons, but they are no longer valid as I see it." "What were his reasons? This surprises me very much. Just the day before that he mentioned his book and expressed pleasure that it was being published." "The reasons he gave were that the book contained some things that were--to use his own words--a trifle crackpottish. He thought they might reflect on him in some way." "Oh my goodness. He was always doing something like that, Mr. Browne. He leaned over backwards. Scientific integrity was a fetish with him."