He rendered the impression that he regarded that specific information as of no consequence, but he heard the catch of a sound in Lytton's throat and saw him shift his footing nervously.
"How long ago?" he asked.
"Too damn long to sit here like this!"—in anger that was not simulated, for with every word that passed between them, Benny felt his reason slipping, felt that if this situation continued long enough he must rise with the chair bound fast to him and try to do harm to this other man.
"Where'd he go?"
Lytton bent low as he whispered excitedly and his gun hand hung loosely at his side.
Benny shook his head.
"I dunno," he said. "He went off some'res, but he won't be gone long, that's a good bet! He was up to somethin'—God knows what. Guess he thought I'd spoil it."
He looked up and saw the glitter of Lytton's eyes.
"Up to something is he?" Lytton laughed, dryly, repeating Lynch's words. "Up to something! He's always up to something. He's been up to something for weeks, the wife stealing whelp ... and now if I know what I'm talking about, he's up against something!"
"Wife stealer, is he?" Benny laughed as he put that question and was satisfied when he saw Ned's jaw muscles bulge. "That's his latest, is it?"