"Oh, Detective, what are you planning to do?"
Mr. Jims was so startled he nearly jumped to his feet. Shade hurriedly reassured him:
"Don't worry, I have a firearms license."
As he spoke, he actually pulled out the document.
"Detective, do you think that's what I care about?"
Mr. Jims asked in some terror, then looked at Doctor Schneider. The doctor merely shrugged.
"He is legally licensed to carry a gun."
Shade had already taken out a bullet and placed it in his palm for Mr. Jims to inspect.
"See? This is a genuine bullet."
He opened the Gun of Kindness's cylinder and let Mr. Jims confirm that all six chambers were empty. Then Shade pressed the bullet into one chamber and, with a click, snapped the cylinder back into place. He casually spun it until none of the three could tell where the bullet had gone.
Lowering the hammer with his thumb, Shade placed the revolver on the table and pushed it toward Mr. Jims.
The skinny middle-aged man looked at Shade as though he were looking at a mad god.
"Detective, I only wanted treatment for my psychological illness. If it can't be cured, it will only affect my quality of life. But if my luck is bad and I pull the loaded chamber, I'll lose my life."
"That is why this is true exposure to danger. There is a five-in-six chance that nothing will happen to you, but at the moment you pull the trigger, the feeling of imminent death, of past memories flooding through your mind one after another, might wash away the hallucination that you are constantly facing a fatal crisis."
Shade spoke, and for an instant Mr. Jims actually seemed tempted. But he immediately shook his head.
"Oh, I really must be crazy, to