I think I
know how we'll be able to cut production costs on it, about five per
cent."
"And boy, can we stand that!" Dunmore grunted. "Well, be seeing you at
the plant."
Rand waited until Dunmore had left, then went across to the library and
up to the gunroom. As soon as he entered the room above, he saw what was
wrong. The previous thefts had been masked by substitutions, but whoever
had helped himself to one of the more recent metallic-cartridge
specimens, the night before, hadn't bothered with any such precaution,
and a pair of vacant screwhooks disclosed the removal. A second look told
Rand what had been taken: the little .25 Webley & Scott from the Pollard
collection, with the silencer.
The pistol-trade which had been imposed on him had disquieted him; now,
he had no hesitation in admitting to himself, he was badly scared.
Whoever had taken that little automatic had had only one thought in
mind--noiseless and stealthy murder. Very probably with one Colonel
Jefferson Davis Rand in mind as the prospective corpse.
He sat down at the desk and started typing, at the same time trying to
keep the hall door and the head of the spiral stairway under observation.
It was an attempt which was responsible for quite a number of
typographical errors.
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