to buy that--picture."

Les knotted his robe and stepped back. "Sure. Come on in."

The man entered the room and stood silent while Les got out his file.
"What do you want it for?" he asked.

"It is for my personal--use."

"Sure." Les handed the glossy to the man he identified in his own mind
as Matson. "That the one?"

After a grave inspection, the other replied, "Yes. How much does it
cost--me?"

"Ten bucks?"

Without comment, the man sorted a ten-dollar bill from a skimpy roll he
took from his pocket and handed it to Les. With that, he turned and
walked out, closing the door after him and leaving several questions in
Les King's mind. Was this a vanity operation? Had the guy merely wanted
a glossy of himself? He hadn't impressed Les as being that kind of man.
Was there a reason for wanting the pic off the market? That didn't make
sense either because he hadn't asked for the negative.

Quite suddenly, in answer to the really important, the nagging,
question, Les snapped his fingers. The hem of his dressing gown flapped
around his skinny legs as he dived to his old file rack and went back
where the dust was thick. He brought out an envelope, dug into it, and
found what he was looking for--an old newspaper clipping dated some ten
years back. It consisted of a headline:

LOCAL POLITICIAN DISAPPEARS

The clipping was from the Kenton, New York, _Chronicle_, an upstate
weekly, and the news story told how Judge Sam Baker had vanished on a
fishing trip to a nearby lake. Accidental drowning had been the verdict
but, as yet, the body had not been recovered.

Les King stared at the clipping. The body, as he remembered it, never
was recovered, either, but the drowning verdict stood intact and the
judge had been gradually forgotten.

Les King's interest in the affair had been financial. He'd gone to
Kenton, talked Baker's widow out of a couple of family photographs, and
had hiked back to New York, hoping for a sale to a big daily.

But the story hadn't caught on even though it well might have, because
Baker's power extended into Albany and could thus have interested New
York City. All in all, it had been a profitless speculation on Les
King's part.

Now, however, it seemed to be coming to life again. Les stared at the
photo under the headline. It was a good one--exceptionally clear.

And beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was the man who had just come to Les
King's room to purchase a glossy of himself for ten doll