‘What is it called?’ Luis asked. ‘A Colt .38.’ ‘How many bullets?’ ‘Six.’ ‘Have you killed somebody with it?’ ‘Not yet,’ the lieutenant said. They were breathless with interest. He stood with his hand on his holster and watched the brown intent patient eyes: it was for these he was fighting. He would eliminate from their childhood everything which had made him miserable, all that was poor, superstitious, and corrupt. They deserved nothing less than the truth – a vacant universe and a cooling world, the right to be happy in any way they chose. He was quite prepared to make a massacre for their
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