"Any time to suit your convenience," returned the clerk, but getting at his books with an alacrity which showed that he would be a little more willing to attend to the matter of fares then than at any other time.
William handed him an amount of money large enough to pay for both the fares of himself and Keating from Brashear to Galveston; and, while the clerk was making change, said, by way of getting into conversation with him, "I'm afraid we're on a fool's errand out here."
The clerk counted out the change, inked his pen to take the names, and then elevating his eyebrows, although not speaking a word, plainly asked, "Ah, how's that?"
"Well, you see," replied the detective, "we're hunting a man that's had right good luck."
"He can't be in these parts," replied the clerk, with a slightly satirical smile. "Names?" he then asked.
"James A. Hicks and Patrick Mallory."
"Where from?"
"Pittsburg."
"Which is which?" asked the clerk, in a business tone of voice.
"I am Hicks, and that pretty smart-looking Irishman by the baggage-room is Mallory," was the reply.