ardly this time. The situation was right again; he
was handling things, inch by inch, without interruption.

He took the gun from the old man's hands. "One thing more, Kessit. Would
you please light the candles on the table and turn out the rest of the
lights in the room. I've always been a romanticist," Heidel said,
smiling around the table. "Candlelight with my wine."

"Oh, excellent," said Locke soberly.

"Quite," said Forbes.

Heidel nodded and waited while the butler lit the candles and snapped
off the overhead lights. The yellow flames wavered on the table as the
door closed gently behind the butler.

"Now, then," Heidel said, feeling the tingling in his nerves. "This,
gentlemen, is a replica of an antique of the twentieth century. A
working replica, I might add. It was called a P-38, if my memory serves
me." He held the pistol up so that the candlelight reflected against the
glistening black handle and the blue barrel.

There was a polite murmur as the five men stretched forward to look at
the gun in Heidel's hands.

"Crude," Sadler said.

"But devilish-looking," Forbes added.

"My hobby," Heidel said. "I would like to add that not only do I collect
these small arms, but I am very adept at using them. Something I will
demonstrate to you very shortly," he added, grinning.

"Say now," nodded Meehan.

"That should be jolly," Forbes said, laughing courteously.

"I believe it will at that," Heidel said. "Now if you will notice,
gentlemen," he said touching the clip ejector of the pistol and watching
the black magazine slip out into his other hand. "I have but five
cartridges in the clip. Just five. You see?"

They all bent forward, blinking.

"Good," said Heidel, shoving the clip back into the grip of the gun. He
couldn't keep his lips from curling in his excitement, but his hands
were as steady as though his nerves had turned to ice.

The five men leaned back in their chairs.

"Now then, Meehan," he said to the man at the opposite end of the table.
"Would you mind moving over to your left, so that the end of the table
is clear?"

"Oh?" said Meehan. "Yes, of course." He grinned at the others, and there
was a ripple of amusement as Meehan slid his chair to the left.

"Yes," said Heidel. "All pretty foolish-looking, perhaps. But it won't
be in a few minutes when I discover the bastard of a Martian who's in
this group, I'll tell you that!" His voice rose and rang in the room,
and he brought the gli