Firing Line
By GEORGE O. SMITH
Illustrated by Orban
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, October 1944.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Mark Kingman was surprised by the tapping on his windowpane. He thought that the window was unreachable from the outside—and then he realized that it was probably someone throwing bits of dirt or small stones. But who would do that when the doorway was free for any bell-ringer?
He shrugged, and went to the window to look out—and become cross-eyed as his eyes tried to cope with a single circle not more than ten inches distant. He could see the circle—and the bands on the inside spiraling into the depths of the barrel, and a cold shiver ran up his spine from there to here. Behind the heavy automatic, a dark-complected man with a hawklike face grinned mirthlessly.
Kingman stepped back and the stranger swung in and sat upon the windowsill.
"Well?" asked the lawyer.