Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
On impulse he suddenly turned, crossed the room and opened the sob forced its way to his lips. There was no bedroom. Where his stolid four poster and dresser had been there was greyish nothingness. Like an automaton he turned again and paced to the hall door. Chambers merely tapped on the glass top of the counter with a Weakly Mr. Chambers moved back to his chair in the corner. For people long ago had gathered that Mr. Chambers desired to be October wind was rustling the dead leaves when Mr. Chambers started out at seven o'clock. It was a good night, he told himself, smelling the clean, crisp air of autumn and the faint pungence of distant wood smoke. Mr. Chambers turned his eyes back into the room. The clock was snarling and growling, snapping at his heels. But Mr. Chambers was blurting floated to Mr. Chambers. "... still taking place ... Empire State building disappeared ... "Oh, well," said Mr. Chambers, "I never did like that very well." The wind whipped the muted words away and Mr. Chambers grumbled Mr. Chambers had written. But he pushed speculation away, sniffed the clean, crisp air again, looked at the familiar things that materialized out of the late caught some excited words: "It's happening everywhere.... What do you think it is.... The scientists can't explain...." But as Mr. Chambers neared them they fell into what seemed an Mr. Chambers started. The clock had stopped. Funny ... the first then stepped back and Mr. Chambers continued on his walk. He started violently. It was only 7:30! It wasn't there. There was a tingling sensation in his feet. had started out at seven and returned at a quarter of eight. Now.... It wasn't until then that he realized something else was wrong. He had no cigar. For the first time he had neglected to purchase his evening smoke. Shaken, muttering to himself, Mr. Chambers let himself in his ticking of the old fashioned pendulum clock on the mantelpiece. But silence was no strange thing to Mr. Chambers. Once he had it out many years before. To be precise, upon the night when the symphonic broadcast had been interrupted to give a news flash. He had stopped reading newspapers and magazines too, had exiled undoubtedly induced by hunger and privation and the miseries of war. But those things he put away as items far removed from his own But there were two things tonight that did matter. Two curious, incredible events. He had arrived home fifteen minutes early. He had forgotten his cigar. Huddled in the chair, he frowned slowly. It was disquieting to have something like that happen. There must be something wrong. Had his long exile finally turned his mind ... perhaps just a very little ... enough to make him queer? Had he lost his sense He had put it there because he liked it best. Further reverie became an effort as Mr. Chambers felt himself succumbing to weariness. He undressed and went to bed. For an hour he lay awake, assailed by vague fears he could neither define nor understand. When finally he dozed off it was to lose himself in a series of horrific dreams. He dreamed first that he was a castaway on a tiny islet in mid-ocean, that the waters around the island teemed with huge poisonous sea snakes ... hydrophinnae ... and that In another dream he was pursued by a horror which he could neither see nor hear, but only could imagine. And as he sought to flee he stayed in the one place. His legs worked frantically, pumping like pistons, but he could make no progress. It was as if he ran upon a treadway. Then again the terror descended on him, a black, unimagined thing and he tried to scream and couldn't. He opened his mouth and strained his vocal cords and filled his lungs to bursting with the urge to shriek ... but not a sound came from his lips. All next day he was uneasy and as he left the house that evening, at precisely seven o'clock, he kept saying to himself: "You must not forget tonight! You must remember to stop and get your cigar!" Everything was the same as the night before. And now, he told himself, the Red Star confectionery is in the next block. I must not forget tonight. To forget twice in a row would be just too much. For the first time in twenty years, Mr. Chambers retraced his had disappeared! Now he understood why he had missed the store on the night before, why he had arrived home fifteen minutes early. Mr. Chambers shivered, reached to turn up the collar of his coat, he had ever sensed before. Not a homey, comfortable silence ... but There was something back of this, Mr. Chambers told himself. Something that reached far back into one corner of his brain and demanded recognition. Something tied up with the fragments of talk he had heard on the drugstore corner, bits of news shrieking of the newsboy calling his papers. Something to do with the happenings in the world from which he had excluded himself. He brought them back to mind now and lingered over the one central theme of the talk he overheard: the wars and plagues. Hints of a Europe and Asia swept almost clean of human life, of the plague ravaging Africa, of its appearance in South America, Mr. Chambers got to his feet, strode to the door, opened it and With a sigh of relief, Mr. Chambers turned back into the hall. Gulping in fright, Mr. Chambers slammed the door shut, locked it and double bolted it. Then he went to his bedroom and took two sleeping powders. His dreams that night were the same as on the night before. Again there was the islet in mid-ocean. Again he was alone upon it. by piece. He awoke, body drenched with perspiration. Vague light of early dawn filtered through the window. The clock on the bedside table showed 7:30. For a long time he lay there motionless. Again the fantastic happenings of the night before came back to haunt him and as he lay there, staring at the windows, he remembered them, one by one. But his mind, still fogged by sleep and astonishment, took the happenings in its stride, mulled over them, lost the keen edge of fantastic terror that lurked around The light through the windows slowly grew brighter. Mr. Chambers looked. Mr. Chambers was sure of that. and wrenched it out of true. Like the house he had seen across the street the night before, the house that had painfully righted itself when he thought of how it should look. too might right itself. But Mr. Chambers was very weary. Too that Mr. Chambers' entire life was centered. blighted Africa, had reached South America ... might even have come to the United States. He remembered the whispers he had heard, the words of the men at the drugstore corner, the Abruptly Mr. Chambers closed the book, shoved it back in the case With a wild cry, Mr. Chambers turned and ran. Back down the that Mr. Chambers felt the eyes peering at him. Mr. Chambers pushed open the door of his house. But he did not Without removing his hat and coat, he sank exhausted in his favorite chair, closed his eyes then opened them again. Mr. Chambers stared at the marine print and for a moment a little gone and that fitted in the pattern ... for it would be the least familiar things that would go first. Wheeling, he stared across the room. Was it his imagination, or did the lamp on the table blur and begin to fade away? children and barking dogs? Might not the Red Star confectionery still exist, splashing the street with the red of its neon sign? Could it be that he was going mad? He had heard whispers when he had passed, whispers the gossiping housewives had not intended him to hear. And he had heard the shouting of boys when he walked by. They thought him mad. Could he be really mad? But he knew he wasn't mad. He knew that he perhaps was the sanest

<question>:
What is Mr. Chambers' first indication that something is wrong?

<options>:
A He arrives home early.
B He overhears upsetting news about the Empire State Building.
C He forgot a cigar.
D He is having bad dreams.

<answer>:

A