ou don't have an ounce of concrete evidence to back up your
theory."

"That's right. I don't," Johnson agreed.

Outside the door a board creaked. Johnson glanced quickly across the
room to where Hawkes sat with a pistol on his lap. Hawkes' eyebrows
raised, but he made no sound.

* * * * *

Suddenly the door was kicked open and the black-bearded stranger stood
framed in the doorway. "Raise 'em!" he barked. The gun in his hand was
aimed at Johnson.

The man took two steps into the room. Hawkes shifted slightly in his
chair and the gunman's head swiveled in his direction. The slug from
Hawkes' pistol made a small blue hole in the upper left corner of his
forehead.

The thug's face tipped up, shocked and unbelieving. He swayed slowly
before he fell backward, his body rigid. His fur cap flew from his
head as he struck the floor.

"I thought we'd better play it safe," Hawkes said as he rose and
walked over to the fallen man. He slipped his gun into his pocket
before he bent and picked up the cap at his feet. He dropped it over
the upturned face.

For a long moment the silence held thin as the two men looked at each
other. Hawkes stood, wiping his right hand on his trouser leg. Johnson
toyed idly with the gun he had picked up from the desk in front of
him.

Finally Hawkes let his body sag into a chair at Johnson's right. "This
is always a dirty business," he said sourly.

Johnson sat down also. "Did you notice the look on his face when he
saw you, and you shot him?" he asked, abstractedly turning the pistol
in his hand. "Funny thing. In that half-second before he fell an
article I read somewhere flashed into my mind. It seems that during
the French Revolution a certain doctor got to wondering just how long
a man's brain remained active after his head had been cut off. He
persuaded some of his friends who were due to be guillotined to
cooperate in a series of tests. Each man was to keep blinking his
eyes as long as possible after his head left his body, as a sign that
he was still conscious. The doctor counted as high as six winks."

"Very interesting, I'm sure," Hawkes said guardedly. "But a bit
morbid, isn't it?"

"I was wondering," Johnson went on as though he had not heard the
other, "whether he was still conscious for that instant after you shot
him. And if that brought the look of surprise to his face."

* * * * *

Hawkes turned in his chair