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his reasons, but they are no longer valid as I see it."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."

"I haven't read the book," Mr. Browne said. "The reader reported it was
far better than Dr. Grant's first one. That was good enough for me. The
reader is no longer with us." He frowned in irritation at the memory.
"Left us without giving notice. But he was a good man. Excellent
judgment. I'd like to go ahead with the book unless you object."

"I don't know," Mrs. Grant hesitated. "If he didn't want it published--"

"But he's gone now," Browne reminded her.

"I know, but--" She wept softly into a crumpled kerchief.

The publisher remained silent. After a moment she pulled herself
together. "He was always so absent-minded. I was sure he had mislaid the
check. Used it to scribble some problem on. He did that once several
years ago."

Browne reached into his breast-pocket and brought out a long envelope
and extended it toward her.

"I had another check made out for advance royalties," he said, "if you
decide to let me go ahead with the book."

"I don't think I should, Mr. Browne." She withdrew the check from the
envelope and looked at it, her eyebrows lifting at the size of the
figure.

"It's substantially more than the original check," Browne said. "I
thought perhaps you might be in need of money, and I feel c