Rand nodded. "I'm banking on that. He'll try to give me a fatal but not
instantly fatal wound, and that means he'll have to take time to pick his
spot. The reason I've managed to survive these people against whom I've
had to defend myself has been that I just don't give a damn where I shoot
a man. A lot of good police officers have gotten themselves killed
because they tried to wing somebody and took a second or so longer about
shooting than they should have."

"Something in that, too," McKenna agreed. "But what I'm getting at is
this: I think I know a way to give you a little more percentage." He
rose. "Wait a minute; I'll be right back."

CHAPTER 19

There was less feuding at dinner that evening than at any previous meal
Rand had eaten in the Fleming home. In the first place, everybody seemed
a little awed in the presence of the new butler, who flitted in and out
of the room like a ghost and, when spoken to, answered in a heavy B.B.C.
accent. Then, the women, who carried on most of the hostilities, had
re-erected their _front populaire_ and were sharing a common pleasure in
the recovery of the stolen pistols. And finally, there was a distinct
possibility that the swift and dramatic justice that had overtaken
Walters and Gwinnett at Rand's hands was having a sobering effect upon
somebody at that table.

Dunmore, Nelda, Varcek, Geraldine and Gladys had been intending to
go to a party that evening, but at the last minute Gladys had pleaded
indisposition and telephoned regrets. The meal over, Rand had gone
up to the gunroom, Gladys drifted into the small drawing-room off the
dining-room, and the others had gone to their rooms to dress.

Rand was taking down the junk with which Walters had infiltrated the
collection and was listing and hanging up the recovered items when Fred
Dunmore, wearing a dressing-gown, strolled in.

"I can't get over the idea of Walters being a thief," he sorrowed.
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen his signed
confession.... Well, it just goes to show you...."

"He took his medicine standing up," Rand said. "And he helped us recover
the pistols. If I were you, I'd go easy with him."

Dunmore shook his head. "I'm not a revengeful man, Colonel Rand," he
said, "but if there's one thing I can't forgive, it's a disloyal
employee." His mouth closed sternly around his cigar. "He'll have to take
what's coming to him." He stood by the desk for a moment, looking down at
the reco