y, was wrong. The
evidence he had based it on was still there, but it was evidence of
something else.

Of what?

The eastern horizon was suffused with light. It grew stronger, dimming
the light of the moon.

From somewhere in the depths of his being rose a feeling that soon he
would know, and when he did he would be close to crossing the threshold.

He unclasped his arms and straightened out his legs, feeling stabs of
pain in his weary muscles. He got to his feet, tingling with weariness.

By the side of the road, he could see the police car he had
stolen--infinite ages ago. He walked toward it, and when he reached it
he climbed in and closed the door.

"Beautiful morning," Captain Waters said, starting the motor.

* * * * *

Fred awoke and opened his eyes. Across the room the French doors were
open. Sunlight was filtering through the copper screens. A breeze was
playing gently with the drapes. For a moment the flight, the long walk
into the country, his rendezvous with Aloneness, Captain Water's coming
to bring him back, all seemed the stuff of dreams. He had the feeling
that he had never left this enormous bed.

Then it returned. Reality. The miracle of his reorientation to belief,
the new vistas that went with it. The full realization of the true
nature of the vanishments.

He became aware of a figure in the doorway, watching him. It was Mrs.
Waters. "Awake?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yes," Fred said.

"Want some breakfast?"

He nodded. She went away.

He raised his head and looked about the room, at the homey touches, the
family pictures on the dresser and the walls, the hand sewed knickknacks
and frills. This was probably the Waters' own bedroom that they had
given up for him.

He could vanish while Mrs. Waters was away. She would come in with the
breakfast tray and find him gone.

When would the _moment of reorientation_ come?

He frowned in thought. That had stirred up something about what he had
dreamed, or thought, while he was asleep. Something that had the flavor
of being very important.

"Here you are!" Mrs. Waters said, sweeping into the room with the tray
and its Swedish design dishes and steaming coffee and hot cereal. As she
bent over to set the tray on the bed, there came the sound of the front
door opening. "There's Pa, home already." She smiled worriedly at Fred.
"Will you be all right? I'll tell Pa to come in and keep you company
while I fix his s