t 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...."

Eventually, he had them all assembled, including the five cased sets.
Rand found a couple of empty bushel baskets and laid the pistols in them,
between layers of old newspapers. He picked up one, and McKenna took the
other, while Walters piled the five flat hardwood cases into his arms
like cordwood. Still saying nothing, her eyes stony with hatred, the
woman followed them downstairs.

The rest of the afternoon was consumed with formalities. Gwinnett was
given a hearing, at which he was represented by a lawyer straight out
of a B-grade gangster picture. Rand had a heated argument with an
over-zealous Justice of the Peace, who wanted to impound the pistols and
jackknife-mark them for identification, but after hurling bloodthirsty
threats of a damage suit for an astronomical figure, he managed to retain
possession of the recovered weapons.

Ritter left at a little past three, to report for duty in the Fleming
household. Rand rode with McKenna and Kavaalen to the State Police
substation, where the pistols were transferred to McKenna's personal car,
in which they and Rand were to be transported back to the Fleming place.

It was five o'clock before Rand had finished telling the sergeant and the
corporal everything he felt they ought to know.

"When we get to the Flemings', I'll give you that revolver I got from the
coroner," he finished. "One of your boys can take it to this fellow
Umholtz, and get him to identify it. You might also show it to young
Gillis, and see what he knows about it. Gillis might even give you a name
for who got it from Rivers. I'm not building any hopes on that, and the
reason I'm not is that Gillis is still alive. If he knew, I don't think
he would be."

"Yeah. I can see that," McKenna nodded. "Fact is, I can see everyt