Time for Murder: Macabre Crime Stories. Sydney J. Bounds

was the Persian rug, but Laver was not now stretched out upon it. The financier faced Clifford Webb, staring fascinated at the gun in his hand. Webb’s finger tightened on the trigger.

      “Stop!”

      The command was torn from Burton’s lips as if of its own volition. Webb half-turned, amazement written plain across his face—and, in that moment of hesitation, Laver hurled himself across the room to grapple with his would-be murderer.

      Burton heard the shot, and saw one of the two men stagger and fall across the Persian rug. He looked down.

      The corpse had been a rangy man with a sharply pointed nose. The eyes, which in life had never quite seemed to focus in one place, were now focused in death on the ceiling. Clifford Webb had paid in full for his intended crime.

      “It was self-defence!” Gerald Laver screamed. “You saw it—he threatened me—I killed him in self-defence!”

      Inspector Burton scratched his head and wondered what the commissioner would make of his report.