“All right,” I said. “You don’t have to. Better button up your blouse. Sandra and Bleatie may be here any minute.”

She raised her hands to her blouse. I saw the fingers quiver as she fitted the loops over the buttons.

Afternoon sun streamed into the room, made it hot and close. There was no breeze, and the open windows seemed merely to attract the hot air which radiated up from the side of the building.

The bell captain knocked at the door, pushed a brown paper package into my hands. “Listen, buddy,” he said, “don’t get into any trouble with this rod. It’s a good one, but I had to lie like hell to get old Mose to let loose of it.”

I said, “Thanks,” kicked the door shut, ripped off the brown wrappings, and brought to light a thirty-two blue-steel automatic. The blue was worn off the steel in places; but the barrel was in good condition. I opened the box of shells, pushed the magazine full, and said to Alma Hunter, “You know how to work this?”

“No,” she said.

“Here’s a safety catch that you work with your thumb,” I explained. “Here’s another safety catch on the back of the handle which you automatically release when you squeeze your hand about the grip. All you have to do is to hold it in your right hand, pull this little lever down with your thumb, and pull the trigger. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s see if you do.” I removed the magazine, jerked the mechanism back and forth, snapped the safety catch into position, handed it to her, and said, “Shoot me.”

She took the gun and said, “Donald, don’t say that.”

“Point it at me,” I said. “Shoot me. You’ve got to. I’m going to choke you. Come on, Alma, snap out of it. Let’s see if you can point the gun and pull the trigger.”

She pointed the gun and tried to pull the trigger. The skin grew white across her knuckles, but nothing happened.

“The safety catch,” I said.

She jerked the catch down with her thumb. I heard the click of the firing pin against the chamber, and then she sat down on the bed as though her knees had lost all their strength. The gun dropped from her limp fingers to the carpet.

I picked up the gun, shoved the magazine back into position, jacked a shell up into the chamber, saw that the safety catch was on, removed the magazine, and shoved in a shell to take the place of the one that had gone up into the firing chamber. I put the gun in her purse.

She watched me with frightened, fascinated eyes.