"Arthur!" I yelled. "Keep quiet for a while--trouble!"
He clacked once, and the typewriter shut itself off. I jumped for the
door of the bathroom, cursing the fact that I didn't have cartridges
for the gun. Still, empty or not, it would have to do.
I ducked behind the bathroom door, in the shadows, covering the hall
door. Because there were two things wrong with what the desk clerk had
told me. Vern Engdahl wasn't a "miss," to begin with; and whatever
name he used when he came to call on me, it wouldn't be Vern Engdahl.