SYNOPSIS: Kate has asked Masters [bad word] to her flat. She has told him that her father has some antique pistols he wants to sell. Masters is suspicious and has decided to take a small automatic pistol with him.
Masters rang Hugo just before he left his shop.
"You told me about an old blind man and a woman . . . well, they've
just phoned. They want me to go to their place and look at some
antique pistols," he said nervously.
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Hugo asked sarcastically.
"You have a pistol, haven't you? There isn't much an old blind man
and a woman can do to you?" he added.
Masters could not understand why Hugo was so casual about it. He
got into his white Jaguar and drove off.
"Perhaps the old man really does want me to look at his pistols," he
thought. He patted the pistol in his pocket. It made him feel safer.
He felt even safer when Kate opened the door. She was slim, almost delicate-looking. "Good afternoon," he said. *Tm Eric Masters. You rang my shop earlier." She smiled. "I hope I haven't put you to any trouble. However, I'm sure you'll decide we haven't made [bad word] all this way for nothing," she said pleasantly, and led him into the sitting-room. Masters glanced suspiciously at the old, blind man sitting on the sofa. At first he seemed harmless enough, but there was something familiar about the man's face that made Masters look more carefully at him.
"I'll go and get the pistols." Kate said. Masters stayed where he was, where he could see everything and where nobody [bad word] in behind him. The old, blind man did not move. He simply sat there, his hands folded on his white walking-stick, his eyes behind the dark glasses staring blindly in front of him.
"Are you a collector, too?" Masters asked. The old man simply nodded. The woman came out of the bedroom with a large black case. "They're all in here," she said. "If [bad word] over here, to the table, we can look at them. My father doesn't really want anyone else to have them, but I'm afraid we have no choice. It's a question of money."
Masters kept his eyes fastened on the old man's face as he walked towards the table. He was halfway there when the old man raised his face slightly. The sudden movement made Masters stop. The more he looked at that face, the more suspicious he became. Suddenly it dawned on him. He stared at both of them. They were both waiting expectantly for him [bad word] nearer. It was the old man's nose and lips that made Masters think of Coke. He reached for his pistol.