"Wait. This young chap isn't going to murder you. I'll tell you this much. The man he wants is I; but he knows my face, not my name. He's been on the trail of that face for some time, and now he's tracking it to the right house; but when he sees you and hears you called Drew, he'll be thrown off again."
The other nodded gloomily.
"I'm by way of a lightning rod. This tenderfoot with the hard hand, he strikes and I sort of conduct the shock away from anything that'll burn, eh?"
Drew overlooked the comment.
"There are certain things about me you will have to know." And he explained carefully the story which Nash had told to Bard.
"This Bard," asked the cautious Lawlor, "is he any relation of old John
Bard?"
"Even if he were, it wouldn't make your position dangerous. The man he wants is I. He knows my face—not my name. Until he sees me he'll be perfectly reasonable, unless he's crossed. You must seem frank and above board. If you tell more lies than are necessary he may get suspicious, and if he grows suspicious the game is up and will have to be finished with a gun play. Remember that. He'll want to know about Nash. Tell him that Nash is a bad one and that you've fixed him; he mustn't expect to find Nash here."
Lawlor rubbed his hands, like one coming from the cold outdoors to a warm fire.
"I'm beginning to see light. Lemme at this Bard. I'm going to get enough fun out of this to keep me laughin' the rest of my life."
"Good; but keep that laugh up your sleeve. If he asks questions you'll have some solemn things to say."