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What had the caller said that could hurt him so much? And why was that door always locked? Charlie couldn't help but wonder if there was a connection.

That night, Chuck wanted to finish off their walk by stopping by Adam's backyard, as was their routine.

"Daddy, let's go home," resisted Charlie.

"Why?" asked Chuck, unwilling to forego his visit with Adam. It was a time he looked forward to every day.

"I don't want to intrude," explained Charlie, knowing that her explanation sounded mysterious, for she had not told anyone about that day, nor of the locked door.

"Nonsense," said Chuck, swinging open Adam's wrought iron gate.

Charlie was half pulling her father back, and half guiding him forward. It was more than idle curiosity, but genuine concern for someone she had grown to trust and respect.

"Where is he?" asked Chuck, more to himself than to his daughter.

From outside, they observed that all the lights in the house were out, save one on the second story. Charlie recognized this to be the mysterious room. Tugging at her father's arm, Charlie led Chuck out of the garden.

"Why didn't he come out?" asked Chuck, somewhat hurt.

"I don't know, Daddy," was all Charlie could reply.

Charlie didn't do any housekeeping for Adam the next day, for it was Saturday. She was grateful for this fact, because it was the perfect excuse to stay away. She wanted desperately to help him, but couldn't, as long as he was unwilling to share his problem with her.

Chuck seemed unusually sullen Saturday morning. Before departing to the nursing home to be with Arnold, Vera suggested Chuck find something to occupy himself with.

"Like what?" asked Chuck as his mother was starting down the sidewalk.

"Well," paused Vera, looking back at the house, "why don't you clean the gutters? They certainly need it."

"All right," sighed Chuck.

Not possessing a ladder, Chuck went inside and brought out a kitchen chair and placed it beside the house. Armed with gloves and a spade, Chuck stepped up onto the chair. Mrs. Jacobs from across the street, eyed the strange spectacle from her cactus garden. Chuck placed his right foot on the wooden fence separating his house from the house next door, and hoisted himself onto the sloping rooftop.

"What is that man up to?" wondered Mrs. Jacobs.

Bracing himself so he wouldn't fall off, Chuck began to clear the gutters with his spade.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Jacobs resumed weeding her cactus garden. She briefly went inside for something and returned, only to notice that Chuck was no longer to be seen on the roof. Thinking he was now working on the other side of the house, she went back to her garden. As she worked, she had the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

When Mrs. Jacobs crossed the street, she saw Chuck lying on the ground, holding his head between his hands.

"What happened?" cried Mrs. Jacobs, helping Chuck to his feet.

"I fell," replied Chuck, rubbing his head.

"Chuck, you're bleeding," observed Mrs. Jacobs, guiding him to the house.

"Vera!" she shouted, "Vera, get out here quickly! There's been an accident!"

Charlie came running out of the house. Blood was trickling down the right side of Chuck's face.

"What happened?" cried Charlie.

"We'd better get him to the emergency room," instructed Mrs. Jacobs.

While the doctor stitched up the cut on Chuck's head, Charlie and Mrs. Jacobs waited in the hall. Vera was phoned, and soon arrived at the hospital with Jerome.

"What happened?" asked Jerome.

"He fell off the house roof," replied Charlie.

"What was he doing up there?" demanded Jerome, angrily.
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