A watchman was coming toward me. I could see the reflection of his flashlight. I halted indecisively, growled at myself, and went on. I had a perfectly valid excuse for being there. They could hardly do anything to me.
The guard was big, about my size, and his flash jumped in his hand when he saw me. Then he hurried forward. I grinned into the glare.
"Sorry to scare you—"
"What the hell you doing here, bud?"
I did not like him in the least. "I fell asleep in the bone room. Just woke up."
"That's what they say, bud, that's what they say." He was breathing in my face. I do not care for secondhand hamburg with onions. "Who are you?"
"Bill Cuff, I write for the adventure mags, maybe you've seen my yarns."
"No, I ain't. How come you fell asleep, bud?"
"Cuff," I said, "Bill Cuff. I was knocked out. I mean I was tired. Been working nights on a piece that doesn't want to jell."
"That's what they say, bud." I was getting good and sick of that line. Three times was more than enough. He didn't think so. "That's what they say. Fell asleep, huh? In a room full o' jewelry that'd bring a nice price even if you melted it down. Relics. We got a brooch over there that Napoleon gave to Catherine of Aragon. Make a nice haul by itself."