He turned his back and walked into his room. They heard the bolt slam in the socket.
The moon floated high. From his bed Gurney could see every object clearly in the room. The window was wide open, but no air came to him. He was feeling hot and uneasy, lying there. He knew he couldn’t sleep. His mind dwelt on Dillon. He thought of the hundred dollars, and he sweated with fury. When Dillon had gone into his room, Myra had disappeared into hers. She hadn’t said a word to Gurney.
Sitting up impatiently, Gurney glanced at the battered clock on the mantelshelf. It was just after one. He sat up and swung his legs to the ground. His mind, restless and frustrated, made his body uneasy. He wanted Myra. He wanted her so badly that it made him feel weak. There she was just across the room, behind that door. He had only to go in there and take her. He knew he could force her. Maybe she would fight, but he’d have her in the end. Then he lay back on his elbow, savagely gnawing at his lip. He knew he hadn’t the nerve to go in there and start anything. She was too well guarded by herself. She was too strong for him.
He sat up again, his eyes wide. Her door was opening quietly. He felt his heart hammering against his ribs, and he began to breathe unsteadily. He could see the flicker of the candle behind her, making her shadow dance before her. She raised her hand and beckoned him. He slid across the room quickly, without a sound. She took his arm and pulled him into the room and shut the door.
He was surprised and disappointed to see that she was still dressed. Her white face, and her eyes, hard and bright like glass, frightened him. He put his back to the door and stared at her.
“What is it?” he said, keeping his voice down.
“Don’t you know?” she said. “We ain’t taking any more from that lousy heel. He’s gotta go.”
Gurney stared at her, his mouth going dry. “But how?” he whispered.
“You gotta get into that room an’ knock him off,” she said.
Gurney recoiled. “You’re nuts,” he said. “That guy’s got three guns in there.”