asleep. The bed was empty. The body on the floor was Ricori!
The guard lowered his gun. I dropped at Ricori's side. He was lying face down, stretched out a few feet
from the bed. I turned him over. His face had the pallor of death, but his heart was beating.
"Help me lift him to the bed," I said to the guard. "Then shut that door."
He did so, silently. The man at the window asked from the side of his mouth, never relaxing his watch
outward:
"Boss dead?"
"Not quite," I answered, then swore as I seldom do-"What the hell kind of guards are you?"
The man who had shut the door gave a mirthless chuckle.
"There's more'n you goin' to ask that, Doc."