rt walk would give him fresh appetite, Wilbur thought. The
day was pleasant and sunny. If he spent a half hour walking he would
still have twenty minutes in which to gulp a sandwich. Pete Bellows had
decreed that fifty minutes constituted a lunch hour for Wilbur.

It was with no conscious motive that Wilbur headed south. He found
himself walking at a gait much faster than his usual one, but attributed
that to the fine weather which he assured himself was exhilarating.
Before he realized how fast he was going he had covered a dozen blocks.

The neighborhood had changed. Behind him lay the business district with
its skyscrapers. All about him were the sagging and unsightly houses of
a once fine residential neighborhood which had deteriorated into a slum
area. The only places which seemed at all cared for were the rooming
houses.

A poem of protest rose in Wilbur's breast, and was stilled as he became
aware that he was on Erie street. The street had some meaning for him
but it took several minutes before he realized why. Then he gasped. Only
two doors from where he stood was 136 West Erie Street!

For a long time Wilbur stood looking at the house. It was an old red
brick structure three stories high. The upper two floors appeared
untenanted. If they were not, the occupants must have liked fresh air
for there were no windows.

Wilbur directed his attention to the first floor. The windows there were
too dusty to see through, but at least there were windows. A fat grey
cat sunned itself on the window ledge and regarded Wilbur with
unblinking eyes. He shuddered and had to summon all his courage to climb
the stairs and look at the card nailed to the front door. A. J. Merlin,
the card said, in an unusual script that Wilbur had trouble deciphering.

He raised his hand to knock, then changed his mind. But as he was
turning away he heard the door open.

"Looking for me, bub?" a creaking voice said. Wilbur turned around.

He found himself face to face with an old gentleman wrapped in what
appeared to be a blue dressing gown with white stars all over it. The
old man had a wisp of a beard and white eyebrows that slanted way up at
the outside corners. He was wearing on his head a blue dunce cap which
also had white stars on it.

"Are you-uh-Mr. A. J. Merlin?" Wilbur stammered. "I mean the Mr. Merlin
who gives people confidence?"

"I might be," the old man said cagily.

He stared down at Wilbur, and for the first time Wilbur