After several minutes he got up and began pacing back and forth, pulling angri-nervoursly at a heavy ring on his right hand. The guards watched him. Sounds still came from the bedroom at irregular intervals, horrible to hear. That they were muffled didn't help. At last he felt that he must make his move.
"May I go into the kitchen? I want another drink."
The guards exchanged glances. The larger of the two said, "Go with him." The other rose and followed him into the kitchen.
"You want one?" asked the Undersecretary gruffly.
"You know I can't."
"Of course." He looked past the standing man's shoulder. "Wait a minute. Sergeant, what's that?"
The guard half turned to look behind him. There was a flash of metal as Morgan brought the blade-tipped ring across his neck. The man staggered but made no sound, as the poison collapsed both lungs and heart. Morgan carried him by the armpits and set him down, dead, in a chair. He unclasped the pistol from the man's belt and peered out into the hallway.
At that moment there was a cry, suddenly stifled, from the bedroom.
The voice belonged to a man. The bodyguard leapt up from his seat.
"Forget about it, Snipes."
"Morgan. What are you doing with that? Where's Bonnard?" Morgan fired two short bursts into his chest, then casting aside the body, broke open the door and entered the bedroom.