hat Aunt Matilda had either been trying
to hang the picture where it belonged, or taking it down, and it had
slipped out of her hands and fallen, and she had hidden it behind the
drape and hastily swept up the broken glass.

But why? Even granting that Aunt Matilda might behave in such an erratic
fashion (which was obvious from the evidence), I couldn't imagine a
sensible reason.

It occurred to me, facetiously, that she might have gone in for pictures
of musclemen, and, seeing me coming up the street, she had rushed them
into hiding and brought out the old pictures.

That could account for the evidence--except for one thing. I hadn't
dallied. She could not possibly have seen me earlier than sixty seconds
before I came up the front walk.

Still, the telegrapher at the depot could have called her and told her I
was here when he saw me get off the train.

I shrugged the matter off and went to the guest room. It too was the
same as always, except for one thing. A picture.

It was a color photograph of the church, taken from the street. The
picture was in a frame, but without glass over it, and was about
eighteen inches wide and thirty high.

It was a very good picture. Very lifelike. There was a car parked at the
curb in front of the church, and someone inside the car smoking a
cigarette, and it was so real I would have sworn I could see the
streamer of smoke rising from the cigarette moving.

The odor of good food came from the kitchen, reminding me to get busy. I
opened my two-suiter and took out my toilet kit and went to the
bathroom.

I shaved, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. Afterward I popped into
my room just for a second to put my toilet kit on the dresser, and
hurried to the dining room.

Something nagged at the back of my mind all the time I was eating. After
dinner Aunt Matilda suggested I'd better get some sleep. I couldn't
argue. I was already asleep on my feet. Her fried chicken and creamed
gravy and mashed potatoes had been an opiate.

I didn't even bother to hang up my clothes. I slipped into the heaven of
comfort of the bed and closed my eyes. And the next minute it was
morning.

Getting out of bed, I stopped in mid motion. The picture of the church
was no longer on the wall. And as I stared at the blank spot where it
had been, the thing that had nagged me during dinner last night finally
leaped into consciousness.

When I had dashed into the room and out again last night on the way