“The night’s almost over, Lieutenant,” said Cassidy by way of greeting.
“Almost over, Cassidy.”
“And it’s been a hell of a night, too, if you don’t mind my saying it.”
“I don’t mind your saying it.”
“Especially for him.”
Cassidy jerked a muscular thumb toward the bed.
“Least of all for him, Cassidy.”
“He may be well out of it at that.”
“He is. There’s a lot of beautiful tripe written about how all people kill the things they love. Metaphysically, perhaps. But with a bullet, Cassidy? Not so.”
“I don’t get you, Lieutenant.”
“That isn’t strange, Cassidy. So far I don’t even get myself.”
Lieutenant Valcour went to the door and opened it. Hansen was standing outside, and in his hand was a gun wrapped in a clean handkerchief.
“Roberts’s gun, Hansen?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. It was just where you said it would be, in the trunk. I wrapped it in a handkerchief to keep any prints you might want on it.”
“That’s right, Hansen. Go upstairs now and wake up Dr. Worth. Ask him if he will please come down here at once.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Hansen hesitated for a minute.