ing himself with hobnailed boots for his premature
act. He also submitted, for McKenna's approval, the scheme he had
outlined to Dave Ritter, and obtained a promise of cooperation.

When he entered the Fleming library, en route to the gunroom, he found
the entire family assembled there; with them was Humphrey Goode. As he
came in, they broke off what had evidently been an acrimonious dispute
and gave him their undivided attention. Geraldine, relaxed in a chair,
was smoking; for once, she didn't have a glass in her hand. Gladys
occupied another chair; she was smoking, too. Nelda had been pacing back
and forth like a caged tiger; at Rand's entrance, she turned to face him,
and Rand wondered whether she thought he was Clyde Beatty or a side of
beef. Goode and Dunmore sat together on the sofa, forming what looked
like a bilateral offensive and defensive alliance, and Varcek, looking
more than ever like Rudolf Hess, stood with folded arms in one corner.

"Now, see here, Rand," Dunmore began, as soon as the detective was inside
the room, "we want to know just exactly for whom you're working, around
here. And I demand to know where you've been since you left here this
evening."

"And I," Goode piped up, "must protest most strongly against your
involvement in this local murder case. I am informed that, while in the
employ of this family, you accepted a retainer from another party to
investigate the death of Arnold Rivers."

"That's correct," Rand informed him. Then he turned to Gladys. "Just for
the record, Mrs. Fleming, do you recall any stipulation to the effect
that the business of handling this pistol-collection should have the
exclusive attention of my agency? I certainly don't recall anything of
the sort."

"No, of course not," she replied. "As long as the collection is sold to
the best advantage, I haven't any interest in any other business of your
agency, and have no right to have." She turned to the others. "I thought
I made that clear to all of you."

"You didn't answer my question!" Dunmore yelled at him.

"I don't intend to. You aren't my client, and I'm not answerable to you."

"Well, you carry my authorization," Goode supported him. "I think I have
a right to know what's being done."

"As far as the collection's concerned, yes. As for the Rivers murder, or
my armored-car service, or any other business of the Tri-State Agency,
no."

"Well, you made use of my authorization to get that revolver from
Kirch