The other smiled and put aside Bayard's attempt at levity with a gesture of one hand.
"You understand how it is, when a fellar's just got to talk?"
"I understand," said Bayard. "I've been in that fix myself, recent."
"I knew you would; that's why I come."
He shifted on the box and pulled his hat down over his eyes and said:
"I tried to kill a feller th' other night. I didn't make good. I'm likely to make another try some time, an' go through with it."
Bayard waited for more, with a queer thrill of realization.
"You know this pup Lytton, don't you, Bruce? Yes, everybody does, th' ——! I tried to get him th' other night in Yavapai. I thought I'd done it an' lit out, but I heard later I only nicked his arm. That means I've got to do it later."
"It's that necessary to kill him, is it, Benny?" Bayard asked. "I know he was hit.... Fact is, I found him an' took him into th' Hotel an' fixed him up."
Their gazes met. Benny Lynch's was peculiarly devoid of anger, steady and frank.