I still didn’t say anything.
“After all,” he went on, “I’m assuming that this is the gun with which that crime in California was committed. That is pure inference on my part. I think it would be wise to make an investigation in greater detail. We really haven’t anything to report to the police right now. We merely have found some newspaper clippings and a revolver concealed in an old desk. Thousands of people keep revolvers, and newspaper clippings are not necessarily significant.”
“Done it?” I asked.
“Done what?”
“Convinced yourself that it’s all right for you to do the thing you want to do.”
“Hang it, Lam, I’m not doing that. I’m merely weighing the pros and cons.”
“When you get them weighed, let me know,” I told him, and turned once more toward the door.
This time he called me back before I had taken more than three steps.
“Lam.”
I turned. “What is it this time?”