That was a stub-nosed, heavy automatic.
It was enough to make Ronicky Doone sigh with relief.

At least he had not struck some peaceful, law-abiding fellow.

Any man might carry a gun--Ronicky himself would have been uncomfortable without some sort of weapon about him but there are guns and guns.

This big, ugly automatic seemed specially designed to kill swiftly and surely.
He was considering these deductions when a tap came on the door.
Ronicky groaned.

Had they come already to find out what kept the senseless victim so long?
"Morgan, oh, Harry Morgan!" called a girl's voice.
Ronicky Doone started.