My Library

one there. I went through all of the downstairs rooms and found nothing. Then I made out my notes, went back to bed, and slept. A few days later I met the psychiatrist who lived in the house next to us, Doctor Samuel Kahn. (I kept meeting psychiatrists this casually!) I asked him if he had known the people who owned our house. "Yes, yes, I knew them quite well," Doctor Kahn said. "Mrs. W. died about a year ago. After that, Mr. W. refused to go into the house, just moved out and did not come back." I said it was too bad, that it was a fine house. "Well, it was her house, you understand,' Doctor Kahn replied. "Matter of fact, she died right there in the house, in the room you're sleeping in." I said that was interesting. She must have liked the house very much. "Oh, she did," he replied. "Very fond of paintings. Had them hung all over the place. But the house was pretty much her whole life." I asked him if he happened to have a photo of Mrs. W. "Let me see." He thought for a moment. "Why, yes. I think she was in on a group picture taken at the club. I will see if I can find it." Doctor Kahn came back a few minutes later. In his hand was a photograph showing some fifty or sixty men and women, most of them simply heads as they stood in rows. Doctor Kahn studied the picture. "She's in here somewhere, yes, I'm sure." I looked over his shoulder at the picture. In the second row was a familiar face. I touched it with my finger and asked Doctor Kahn if this was Mrs. W. "Oh yes, yes, that's Mrs. W." He looked at me curiously, then with realization. "Oh, you must have found a picture of her in the house somewhere." I said yes, that was it. Very casually, I asked him if Mrs. W. had had any unusual mannerisms or the like. "No, not that I can remember,' he answered. "But I will think about it. There must have been something." I thanked him, and started to leave. I turned when he called. "Wait a minute, there was one item," Doctor Kahn said.