f the men who had ridiculed the book
Mr. Chambers had written.

But he pushed speculation away, sniffed the clean, crisp air again,
looked at the familiar things that materialized out of the late
autumn darkness as he walked along. For there was nothing ...
absolutely nothing in the world ... that he would let upset him.
That was a tenet he had laid down twenty years ago.

* * * * *

There was a crowd of men in front of the drugstore at the corner
of Oak and Lincoln and they were talking excitedly. Mr. Chambers
caught some excited words: "It's happening everywhere.... What
do you think it is.... The scientists can't explain...."

But as Mr. Chambers neared them they fell into what seemed an
abashed silence and watched him pass. He, on his part, gave them
no sign of recognition. That was the way it had been for many
years, ever since the people had become convinced that he did not
wish to talk.

One of the men half started forward as if to speak to him, but
then stepped back and Mr. Chambers continued on his walk.

Back at his own front door he stopped and as he had done a
thousand times before drew forth the heavy gold watch from his
pocket.

He started violently. It was only 7:30!

For long minutes he stood there staring at the watch in
accusation. The timepiece hadn't stopped, for it still ticked
audibly.

But 15 minutes too soon! For twenty years, day in, day out, he
had started out at seven and returned at a quarter of eight.
Now....

It wasn't until then that he realized something else was wrong.
He had no cigar. For the first time he had neglected to purchase
his evening smoke.

Shaken, muttering to himself, Mr. Chambers let himself in his
house and locked the door behind him.

He hung his hat and coat on the rack in the hall and walked
slowly into the living room. Dropping into his favorite chair, he
shook his head in bewilderment.

Silence filled the room. A silence that was measured by the
ticking of the old fashioned pendulum clock on the mantelpiece.

But silence was no strange thing to Mr. Chambers. Once he had
loved music ... the kind of music he could get by tuning in
symphonic orchestras on the radio. But the radio stood silent in
the corner, the cord out of its socket. Mr. Chambers had pulled
it out many years before. To be precise, upon the night when the
symphonic broadcast had been interrupted to give a news flash.

He had stopped reading newspaper