all,
why should he be worrying? He had John's word in court as a perfect
alibi. Yes, everything would be all right. Everything _had_ to be all
right.

In the late evening Philon arrived at his house with a consuming sense
of great relief, as if the very act of entering his home would protect
him from anything. There was a sense of safety in the mere familiarity
of the environment.

On the mail table he found a note from Ursula saying she had gone for
the weekend. Philon shrugged indifferently. He was glad to have her
out of the way anyhow. But John--there was the best ten thousand
dollars he had ever spent. A sound investment, about to pay its first
real dividend.

"_John!_" His voice echoed in the house with a disturbing hollow
sound. He wet his dry lips and shouted again, "_John_--where _are_
you?"

Only his echoing voice answered him. In growing fright he pounded up
the escalator and rushed into John's room. It was empty. On a desk he
found a message in John's neat hand--

_Phil and Ursula,_

_For a long time I have been very unhappy living with you.
I'm grateful for the food and shelter and education you've
provided. But you have never given me the love and warmth
that I seem to crave. The funny part of it is that I never
understood my craving and what it meant until I saw how love
and affection bound the MacDonald kids and their folks._

_This afternoon Jimmie and Jean came over to say good-by
because they said their father told them they didn't belong
here--that he was taking his family back where they
belonged, atomic bomb threat and all--whatever he meant by
that. After they left I got to thinking how much I'd like to
go with them. So I'm leaving. Somehow I'm going to talk them
into taking me with them wherever they are going. So this
will have to be good-by._

_John._

Philon lifted his eyes from the note and his glance strayed to the
window. Dreading to look he took two slow steps and peered down the
street. The sight of the empty lot on the corner paralyzed him in his
tracks.

John gone! The MacDonald house gone! Gone was his perfect alibi! In
Washington a dying man's words had spelled out his own death sentence.

A step at the door roused him from his horror-stricken trance. He
looked up to see a detective and a policeman regarding him with cold
calculation.

"What