alt-cellars,
an' that-there knife-box?"

Rand wandered back to examining firearms. Eventually, after buying the
knife-box, Karen got rid of the man with the antiques. When he had gone,
she found a pack of cigarettes, offered it to Rand and lit one for
herself.

"Well, now you see why girls leave home and start antique shops," she
said. "Never a dull moment.... Wasn't that sword the awfullest thing you
ever saw, though?"

"Well, one of the ten awfullest," Rand conceded. "I just stopped in to
give you some good news. You won't need to consider that offer of Arnold
Rivers's, any more. He is no longer interested in the Fleming
collection."

"He isn't?" An eager, happy light danced up in her eyes. "You saw him
again this morning? What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything. He isn't talking any more, either. Fact is, he
isn't even breathing any more."

"He.... You mean he's dead?" She was surprised, even shocked. The shock
was probably a concession to good taste, but the surprise looked genuine.
"When did he die? It must have been very sudden; I saw him a few days
ago, and he looked all right. Of course, he's been having trouble with
his lungs, but--"

"It was very sudden. Some time last night, some person or persons unknown
gave him a butt-and-bayonet job with a German Mauser out of a rack in his
shop. A most unpleasantly thorough job. I went to see him this morning,
hoping to badger something out of him about those pistols that are
missing from the Fleming collection, and found the body. I notified the
State Police, and just came from there."

"For God's sake!" The shock was genuine, too, now. "Have the police any
idea--?"

"Not the foggiest. If some of the Fleming pistols turn up at his place,
I might think that had something to do with it. So far, though, they
haven't. I gave the shop a once-over-lightly before the cops arrived, and
couldn't find anything."

She tried to take a puff from her cigarette and found that she had broken
it in her fingers. She lit a new one from the mangled butt.

"When did it happen?" She tried to make the question sound casual.

"That I couldn't say, either. Around midnight, would be my guess. They
might be able to fix a no-earlier time." An idea occurred to him, and he
smiled.

"But that's dreadful!" She really meant that. "It's a terrible thing to
happen to anybody, being killed like that." She stopped just short of
adding: "even Rivers." Instead, she continued: "But I can'