I'll see you there
about five thirty. And bring with you a suit of butler's livery, or
reasonable facsimile. I believe there will be a vacancy in the Fleming
household tomorrow or the next day, and I want you ready to take over.
And bring a small gun with you; something you can wear under said livery.
That .357 Colt of yours is a little too conspicuous. You'll find a .380
Beretta in the top right-hand drawer of my office desk, with a box of
ammunition and a couple of spare clips."
"Right. I'll be at Rosemont Inn at five thirty," Ritter promised. "And
say, Tip was in, this morning, with a lot of dope on the Fleming estate.
Want me to let you have it now, or shall I give it to you when I see
you?"
"You have notes? Bring them along; I'll be seeing you in a couple of
hours."
He parted from Gresham, going out and getting in his car. As Gresham got
his own car out of the garage and drove off toward Pierre Jarrett's
house, Rand started in the opposite direction, toward Rosemont.
About a half-mile from Gresham's he caught an advancing gleam of white on
the highway ahead of him and pulled to the side of the road, waiting
until the State Police car drew up and stopped. In it were Mick McKenna,
Aarvo Kavaalen, and a third man, a Nordic type, in an untidy brown suit.
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