"
For a long time after the door had jarred to its shutting behind
Hallock, Lidgerwood sat at his desk, idle and abstractedly thoughtful.
Twice within the interval he pulled out a small drawer under the
roll-top and made as if he would take up the weapon it contained, and
each time he closed the drawer to break with the temptation to put the
pistol into his pocket.
Later, after he had forced himself to go to work, a door slammed
somewhere in the despatcher's end of the building, and automatically his
hand shot out to the closed drawer. Then he made his decision and
carried it out. Taking the nickel-plated thing from its hiding-place,
and breaking it to eject the cartridges, he went to the end door of the
corridor, which opened into the unused space under the rafters, and
flung the weapon to the farthest corner of the dark loft.
VII
THE KILLER
Lidgerwood had found little difficulty in getting on the companionable
side of Dawson, so far as the heavy-muscled, silent young draftsman had
a companionable side; and an invitation to the family dinner-table at
the Dawson cottage on the low mesa above the town had followed, as a
matter of course.
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