" He hesitated. "You've seen how things are here," he
continued ruefully. "And that's something else I have to thank you for; I
mean, keeping your mouth shut till you got the pistols back. There'd have
been a hell of a row; everybody would have blamed everybody else.... How
did you get him to confess, though?"
Rand told him about the subterfuge of the trumped-up murder charge.
Dunmore had evidently never thought of that hoary device; he chuckled
appreciatively.
"Say, that _was_ smart! No wonder he was so willing to admit everything
and help you get them back." He looked at the pistols on the desk and
moved one or two of them. "Did you get the one the coroner had? Goode
said something--"
"Oh, yes; I got that yesterday." Rand turned and went to the workbench,
bringing back the Leech & Rigdon, which he handed to Dunmore. "That's it.
I fired out the other five charges, and cleaned it at the State Police
substation." He watched Dunmore closely, but there seemed to be no
reaction.
"So that's it." Dunmore looked at it with a show of interest and honest
sorrow, and handed it back, then shifted his cigar across his mouth.
"Look here, Colonel; I've been wanting to ask you something. Did Gladys
just get you to come here to appraise and sell the collection, or are you
investigating Lane's death, too?"
"Well, now, you're asking me to be disloyal to my employer," Rand
objected.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263