"What? How?"
"It happened about five minutes ago. He was getting ready to leave, and we were discussing—you know, what happened tonight. He had a heart attack and just dropped. It must have been all the excitement. His heart was weak anyway, he once said."
Harker could not repress the tide of relief that rose in him. Barchet had been the cause of half of his troubles—Mitchison and Klaus, for one, and the Thurman affair for another. Still, a man was dead, and that was no cause for rejoicing, he told himself coldly.
He said, "That's too bad. Did he have a family?"
"Just a wife, but she died years ago. He was alone."
Harker nodded. "You'd better notify the local police right away."
"Jim, what's the matter with you?" Raymond asked incredulously.
"What do you mean?"
"Barchet's in the operating room now. Vogel's getting ready to try a reanimation on him."
"No!" Harker said instantly.