“Yes, when I decided to sit up in the room with Alma, I knew that I was going to need some sort of protection. I’m not big enough to protect any girl with my fists. I tried to get Mrs. Cool to give me a gun, and she laughed at me. So I went out to Cunweather. I told him the spot I was in, and he said, ‘Hell, Donald, you know where I stand. You can have anything I’ve got.’ ”

“Where did Cunweather get the gun?” the deputy district attorney asked.

“His wife was there,” I said. “He calls her the little woman. He told her to—say, come to think of it, I guess I hadn’t better tell you anything about Cunweather. What difference does it make where I got the gun?”

“You knew Cunweather in Kansas City?”

“Sure.”

“What did he do there?”

I narrowed my eyes, and said, “I told you we weren’t going to talk about Cunweather. I’m talking about me and about Morgan Birks. I guess you know all about it, or you can find out by getting in touch with the people in California.”

“We know all about it,” the deputy sheriff said. “The newspapers have been full of it. The girl was supposed to have shot him.”

I said, “Yes, I know. She was taking the responsibility. I shouldn’t have let her do it.”

“We’re pretty much interested in this gun,” the sheriff said.

“Why?”

“When did you get it?”

“The afternoon of the shooting.”

“Where?”

“Well, I told Cunweather that I wanted a gun and he said he’d get me one. He asked me where I was going to be later on. I told him I was going to be registered at the Perkins Hotel under the name of Donald Helforth. So he said he’d fix it up to deliver the gun to me there.”

“And that’s where you got this gun?”

“Yes.”

“Who was with you in that hotel, Donald?”

“Alma Hunter. She was registered with me. I think it was room 620.”

“And who brought you the gun?”

“A fellow by the name of Jerry Wegley. He was supposed to be a bell captain there in the hotel, but I think he was Cunweather’s man. I think Cunweather had planted him on the job.”

The sheriff said, “It’s going to help a lot if you can prove that, Donald.”

“If I can prove what?”

“That about the gun,” he said. “The gun was hot. It had been used in a murder in Kansas City.”

“In Kansas City?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.”

“Good God!” I said.

“Can you prove that you got the gun from Jerry Wegley?”

“Why sure. Cunweather won’t deny he gave me the gun—well, maybe he will, too, if it was that hot—but maybe Cunweather didn’t know.”

“He must have known it if it was his gun.”