Whisper stood in the center of the floor. His hands were empty and so was his face. Except for his vicious little mouth he looked like something displaying suits in a clothing store window.

Dan Rolff stood behind him, with a gun-muzzle tilted to the little gambler’s left kidney. Rolff’s face was mostly blood. The blond kid⁠—now dead on the floor between Rolff and me⁠—had sapped him plenty.

I grinned at Thaler and said, “Well, this is nice,” before I saw that Rolff had another gun, centered on my chubby middle. That wasn’t so nice. But my gun was reasonably level in my hand. I didn’t have much worse than an even break.

Rolff said:

“Put down your pistol.”

I looked at Dinah, looked puzzled, I suppose. She shrugged and told me:

“It seems to be Dan’s party.”