"After you turn it on just walk to the bed and sit down, please. I'm holding a gun on you."
I touched the light switch and the room was bathed in light and I saw him. He was a middle aged fellow, but trim and well-preserved with dark piercing eyes and hair graying at the temples. He said, "I suppose you know who I am."
I sat down on the bed, shaking my head. He was seated across the room from me in a wing chair, holding a .38 Banker's Special very steadily in his right hand, the muzzle pointing at me.
"No," I said. "Who are you?"
"I am Angus Haney's great great great great grandson."
By then I didn't even blink. I merely said, "Go on, I'm listening."
"I tried to have you killed as a warning to my relation, Mr. Foley. You see, I don't want to kill him. I can't predict what might happen if I kill him. It's never been done before, killing an ancestor. I might disrupt the whole family line. For example, I might never be born. We couldn't possibly have that, could we?"
"Not if you say we couldn't. What do you want, jack? To kill me?"
"If I had wanted that I could merely pull the trigger, couldn't I?"
"Yeah."