People were rolling up the windows of parked cars and keeping an eye on it as they hurried along the sidewalks. I wished it had come through before daybreak this morning, as originally forecast; I might have got some ducks.

Barbara came in to take some letters. She was sitting in the chair near the corner of the desk with her legs crossed, the shorthand notebook on her thigh, and as I dictated I found my train of thought being interrupted from time to time. It would be asinine to say she had worked for me for over a year without my ever having noticed that she was a very attractive girl, but this was apparently the first time I’d ever consciously thought of it. Leaning forward as she was, a strand of reddish-brown hair had swung down alongside her face, framing the line of her cheek. She was wearing a blouse with long full sleeves gathered closely at the wrists, and I found my eyes returning time after time to the slender, fine-boned hands below them with their delicate tracery of blue veins and the tapering fingers moving so gracefully at their work. I stumbled in mid-sentence.

Without looking up she read back, “—not presently included within the corporate limits of the city of Carthage comma nor expected to be so included within—” One corner of her mouth twitched humorously. “Not ‘foreseeable future’, I hope?”

I grinned. “No. I’ve often wondered what that meant, myself. How about ‘near future’?”

I went on, but I was still having difficulty concentrating on the letter. I was disgusted with myself and wondered if that was what I was going to become, a middle-aged ogler of secretaries. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the contempt she’d feel if she were aware of this scrutiny; she’d already had one experience with a philandering husband—her own. Just then, before I could stumble again, the telephone rang. She answered it, and passed it to me. “It’s the Sheriff.”

“Sheriff?” I repeated stupidly, wondering what Scanlon would be calling here for. “Hello.”

“Warren? Listen, did you go hunting this morning? Out at Crossman Slough?”

“Yes,” I said. “Why?”

“What time?”

“I got there a little before daylight, and left—I think it was about a quarter of ten.”

“You didn’t see anything of Dan Roberts out there?”

I frowned. “No. I saw his car, though. What’s this all about?”

“He killed himself. I’m trying to get some idea of what time.”

“Killed himself!”

“Yes. Dr. Martin and Jimmie MacBride found him about a half hour ago, and called in from Vernon’s store. Doc said he’d blown most of the side of his head off, and apparently it happened sometime early this morning. He was in that blind around to the right from the end of the road, the number 2, I think you fellows call it. Where were you?”

“Number 1. Straight down from the end of the road. But, good God, how’d he do it?”

“I don’t know. Mulholland’s out there now, with the ambulance. Doc said the gun must have been practically in his face when it went off, so I guess he was picking it up by the barrel. Was he still doing any shooting over there when you left?”

“No,” I said. “There was nothing to shoot at. I never saw a duck the whole morning. The only shots I heard were just about daybreak.”

“That would have been before legal opening hour.”

“I know,” I said. “I remember being a little burned about it and wondering who it was. We’re pretty strict about that.”

“It’d have to be Roberts, because you two were the only ones out there. I’ve talked to everybody else. But did you say shots?”

“That’s right. Two.”

“How close together?”

I thought about it. “It’s hard to say, but probably less than a minute apart.”

“Not like a man trying for a double on a flight of ducks?”

“No. Too far apart for that. They’d have been out of range before he got off the second one. It was more as if he’d knocked down a cripple that started to get up so he had to shoot it again. That’s what I thought it was, actually. A single.”

“Nothing came over you?”

“No. As I said, I didn’t see a duck the whole morning. The chances are they would have flared out over that number 1 blind where I was, because it’s on that point between the two arms of the slough, and even if they’d gone behind me I’d have heard the wings.”

“It’s damn funny, all right. And you never heard anything at all after that?”

“Not