Hurst hesitated, then he said, “Wait.” He went over to the telephone and dialled. He stood there, the gun still menacing, waiting for his line to connect. They heard the faint “plop” as someone answered the ring at the other end. Hurst said, “McGovern? Listen, there’s been a fight up here an’ two of Ernie’s boys have run into a lot of grief. Send a wagon an’ pick ’em up. This has got to be covered up, see? Just come up quick and get these birds out of here. I’ll be along an’ do some talking later. I don’t want your men asking questions here, do you get all that?” He listened for a moment and then hung up.
He put the gun on the table and lit a cigarette. Myra could see his hand was still shaking. He looked at the woman and jerked his head. “Get dressed quick,” he said. “Maybe the newshounds’ll start buzzin’.”
The woman went into the other room and shut the door. Hurst pushed his fingers through his hair and looked at Dillon.
“What’s the idea of butting in on my fight?”
Dillon showed his teeth in a mirthless smile. “I guess you ain’t so good at lookin’ after yourself. Anyway I figgered it’s time you an’ I got together.”
“You’re the guy who’s been stickin’ up all those service stations, aren’t you?” Hurst was watching him closely.
Dillon nodded his head. “Sure,” he said. “I’m figgering to get in with a mob like yours and doin’ somethin’ in a big way.”
Hurst stared at his fingernails, thinking. He looked up at last. “I guess we might talk this over some time,” he said. “Suppose you look me up tomorrow?”
Dillon said, “Sure, I’ll do that.”
Hurst jerked his head to the other door. “I gotta get this girl out of here. I ain’t got time to talk to you now. You’ve done a swell job… don’t think I ain’t mighty obliged.”