``Well?''

``I didn't think Accacia knew so many big words, Lieutenant.''

Killpath licked his lips. ``Patrolman Accacia is an alert and conscientious law-enforcement officer. I don't think his diligence mitigates your negligence, Matson.''

``Negligence, hell!'' Gun held his breath a moment, pushing the volume and pitch of his voice down under the trapdoor in his throat. ``Sir. I would have been negligent and a goddam lousy cop to boot, if I'd sat around this station all night when somebody got away with murder in my district. It's too bad I didn't call you, and it's too bad I let Schaeffer use Accacia when he could have had a boy who'd be glad to learn something of Homicide procedure. But I'm not one damned bit sorry I went out to question the people I know in the places they hang around, and'' --

``Let's not push our patience beyond the danger line, Sergeant,'' Killpath nasaled. ``I shouldn't like to have to write you up for insubordination as well as dereliction of duty.''

Gun stiffened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He clamped his jaws to keep the fury from spilling out. An argument with Orville Torrence Killpath was as frustrating and as futile as a cap pistol on a firing range.

Killpath leaned forward again, rocked comfortably with his arms still wrapped around one knee. ``Let's just remember, Sergeant, that we must all carry our own umbrella. A district station cann't run smoothly, unless'' -- He interrupted himself, looking around Gun at the doorway. ``Morning, Lieutenant Rinker.''