"Yes," Bill interrupted him, a fierce light leaping into his eyes and transfiguring them in a manner Kars had never before beheld. "It's Murray's gun, and it's the gun that handed death to young Alec Mowbray at the Elysian Fields."
"God!"
Kars' ejaculation was something in the nature of a gasp. Renewed horror was looking out of his eyes. His pipe was held poised in his fingers while it was allowed to go out. A curious feeling of helplessness robbed him of further articulation.
The two men were gazing eye to eye. At last, with an effort, Kars flung off the silence that held him.
"How—how d'you know?" he demanded in thick tones.
Bill held up a nickel bullet between his finger and thumb. Then he displayed the half empty cartridge clip he had extracted from the weapon.
"They're the same make, and—this is the bullet I dug out of poor Alec's body."
Kars breathed deeply. He regarded the various articles, held fascinated as by something evil but irresistible. He watched Bill as he replaced them on the bunk beside him. Then, for a few seconds, the sounds of activity outside, and the buzz of the swarming flies alone broke the silence.
But the moment of silence passed. It was broken by a fierce oath, and it came from Bill. A hot flush stained his tanned cheeks. His anger transformed him.
"God in Heaven!" he cried. "I've suspected right along. Guess I must have known, and couldn't believe. I'm just mad—mad at the thought of it. Say, John, he's had us beaten the whole way. And now it's too late. I could cry like a kid. I could break my fool head against the wall. The whole darn thing was telling itself to me, way back months, down in Leaping Horse, and I just wouldn't listen. And now the boy's dead."