"I think the latter can be safely disregarded. Let's agree that it
was murder and go on from there."
Varcek nodded. "You are investigating it as such?" he asked.
"I am appraising and selling this pistol collection," Rand told him
wearily. "I am curious about who killed Fleming, of course; for my own
protection I like to know the background of situations in which I am
involved. But do you think Humphrey Goode would bring me here to stir up
a lot of sleeping dogs that might awake and grab him by the pants-seat?
Or did you think that uproar in the library last evening was just a
prearranged act?"
"I had not thought of Humphrey Goode. It was my understanding that Mrs.
Fleming brought you here."
"Mrs. Fleming wants her money out of the collection, as soon as
possible," Rand said. "To reopen the question of her husband's death and
start a murder investigation wouldn't exactly expedite things. I'm just a
more or less innocent bystander, who wants to know whether there is going
to be any trouble or not.... Now, you came here to tell me what happened
on the night of Lane Fleming's death, didn't you?"
"Yes. We had finished dinner at about seven," Varcek said. "Lane had been
up here for about an hour before dinner, working on his new revolver; he
came back here immediately after he was through eating.
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