A woman in a faded housedress had just
admitted the two officers and the former Fleming butler.
"You goddam rat!" Gwinnett yelled at Walters, as soon as he saw him.
"For God's sake, Carl," the woman begged. "Don't make things any worse
than they are. Keep quiet!"
"All right, Gwinnett," McKenna said. "We're arresting you: receiving
stolen goods, and accessory to larceny. We have a search warrant. Want to
see it?"
"So you have a search warrant," Gwinnett said. "So go ahead and search;
if you don't find anything, you'll plant something. I want to call my
lawyer."
"That's your right," McKenna told him. "Aarvo, take him to a phone; let
him call the White House if he wants to." He turned to Walters. "Now,
where would he have this stuff stashed?"
"In the garret, sir. I know the way."
As Kavaalen accompanied Gwinnett to the phone, Walters started upstairs.
Rand and McKenna followed, with Mrs. Gwinnett bringing up the rear.
During the search of the attic, she stood to one side, watching the
ex-butler dig into a pile of pistols.
"This is one, gentlemen," Walters said, producing a Springfield 1818
Model flintlock. "And here is the Walker Colt, and the .40-caliber Colt
Paterson, and the Hall..
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