"
Breakfast finally ended, and Varcek and Dunmore left for the Premix
plant. Rand debated for a moment the wisdom of speaking to Gladys about
the missing pistols, then decided to wait until his suspicions were
better verified. After a few minutes in the gunroom, going over Lane
Fleming's arms-books on the shelf over the workbench without finding any
trace of the book in which he had catalogued his collection, he got his
hat and coat, went down to the garage, and took out his car.
It had stopped raining for the time being; the dingy sky showed broken
spots like bits of bluing on a badly-rusted piece of steel. As he got out
of his car in front of Arnold Rivers's red-brick house, he was wondering
just how he was going to go about what he wanted to do. After all ...
The door of the shop was unlocked, and opened with a slow clanging of the
door-chime, but the interior was dark. All the shades had been pulled,
and the lights were out. For a moment Rand stood in the doorway,
adjusting his eyes to the darkness within and wondering where everybody
was.
Then, in the path of light that fell inward from the open door, he saw
two feet in tan shoes, toes up, at the end of tweed-trousered legs, on
the floor.
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