Mark Kingman was surprised by the tapping on his windowpane. He thought that the window was unreachable from the outside--and then he realized that it was probably someone throwing bits of dirt or small stones. But who would do that when the doorway was free for any bell-ringer? He shrugged, and went to the window to look out--and become cross-eyed as his eyes tried to cope with a single circle not more than ten inches distant. He could see the circle--and the bands on the inside spiraling into the depths of the barrel, and a cold shiver ran up his spine from there to here. Behind the heavy automatic, a dark-complected man with a hawklike face grinned mirthlessly.…
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