" In a universe of
ordered abstractions and multiordinal meanings, the literal truth, on one
order of abstraction, was often a black lie on another. "Does that answer
your question?" he asked, with open-faced innocence.
Dunmore nodded. "Yes, I get it, now. Look here, do you think Anton Varcek
could have done it? I know it's a horrible idea, and I want you to
understand that I'm not making any accusations, but we always took it for
granted that he'd been up in his lab, and had come downstairs when he
heard the shot. But suppose he came down and shot Fleming, and then went
out in the hall, and made that rumpus outside after locking the door
behind him?"
"That's possible," Rand agreed. "You were taking a bath when you heard
the shot, weren't you?"
Dunmore shook his head. "I suppose so. I didn't hear any shot, to tell
the truth. All I heard was Anton pounding on the door and yelling. I
suppose I had my head under the shower, and the noise of the water kept
me from hearing the shot." He stopped short, taking his cigar from his
mouth and pointing it at Rand. "And, by God, that would have been about
five minutes before he started hammering on the door!" he exclaimed.
"Time enough for him to have fixed things to look like an accident, set
the deadlatch, and have gone out in the hall, and started making a noise.
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