Chapter SixNo Fourth For Bridge
“Better drop that poker,” said the man with the pistol.
Tim thought he better had, too, but he also thought he should show some gumption. “Why?” he asked.
“Because I have you covered with a thirty-two automatic, son, and I’m in a position to give orders.” The man’s voice was gruff and businesslike, but not unfriendly. Tim could see him more clearly now. He appeared to be past middle age and he was wearing a buttoned-up windbreaker and a soft hat.
“Guess you’re right,” said Tim, and let the poker fall.
“That’s better,” said the man. “Suppose you tell me just what you’re doing here?”
“I’m living here,” said Tim.
The man’s eyes seemed to be gauging him for a moment, then, as if he’d reached a decision, he put the automatic into his pocket. “If you live h
