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As the four sat around the table, each man kept his eyes on the pistol in the middle of the table.  They could smell the tinge of gun powder and feel the empty chair more than they could see it.  The tall one on the end spoke first, but none of the rest could make out the words he muttered.  It was soon clear from his actions that he intended to go next.  He rose, grabbed the gun, and with a trembling hand prayed for forgiveness as the barrel found its target.