"How long have you been here, Pat?"
"Eight-nine-twelve years; ever since that friend of yours, Mr. Owen, paid me $10,000 for getting rid of a certain—what he called a certain obstacle."
"Which you didn't get rid of?"
"No, he made the mistake of paying me in advance, and it didn't seem necessary to harm anybody."
"Got any of the money left?"
The lean gunman held his head back and guffawed.
"It's near here, I guess, but it ain't mine. It dropped between this bar and that table."
"Do you want a little job?" asked Hicks. "But let's go in the back room."
They strolled into an empty wine room and ordered drinks.
"What kind of a job?" asked Patten.