ever ran up against. Ain't been just hearing things, have you,
Murphy? A swig of this home-made hootch does upset a man dreadful,
sometimes."

Murphy glared.

"I ain't never touched the stuff," he bellowed. Then added,
aggressively, "You know damned well I wasn't the only one to hear
that shot. The tenant downstairs heard it, too. It was him that
brought me in."

"Well, you only got his word for it that this is where the shot, was
fired. Maybe HE'S trying to cover something up."

Murphy started, then glanced around.

"Hell!" he exclaimed. "Where's that guy gone to, anyway?"

Marsh, who had recently been close at their heels, was not now in
the group. Murphy moved on tiptoe to the kitchen door and listened.
On the other side of the dining room was the doorway to the entrance
hall, and through the now drawn curtains this space was visible.
Murphy could see that both these rooms were deserted, but an
occasional swishing sound came to his ears. Turning to the waiting
group, he silently and significantly jerked his head toward the
front of the apartment. Following his example, they moved cautiously
across the dining room and the hall and stopped at the door of the
living room.

Marsh, with his back toward them, was just in the act of pulling a