You were half-drunk when you and Perley
began to hobnob over a downtown bar. He said he'd show you some real
life, and you went with him to Sagosto's. He gave you a revolver before
you went in, and told you the place wasn't safe for an unarmed man. He
introduced you to Sagosto, the proprietor, and you were shown to a
back room. You drank quite a little there. You and Perley were alone,
throwing dice. You got into a quarrel. Perley tried to draw his
revolver. You were quicker. You drew the one he had given you--and
fired. He fell to the floor--you saw the blood gush from his breast just
above the heart--he was dead. In a panic you rushed from the place and
out into the street. I don't think you went home that night."
Burton raised his head, showing his haggard face.
"I guess it's no use," he said dully. "If you know, others must. I
thought only Isaac and Sagosto knew. Why haven't I been arrested? I wish
to God I had--I wouldn't have had to-day to answer for."
"I am not through yet," said Jimmie Dale gravely. "The next day old
Isaac here sent for you. He said Sagosto had told him of the murder, and
had offered to dispose of the corpse and keep his mouth shut for fifty
thousand dollars--that no one in his place knew of it except himself.
Isaac, for his share, wanted considerably more. You told him you had no
such sums, that you had no money.
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