"When'd you come here?"
"When'd I come here? When? Well, I come here this noon. On the noon train.
Say, don't make me gabby. I never gab any."
Nothing to be got out of this motionless one. Nothing but a question. A pause, however, and he went on:
"Have you ever seen such a crowd like this? Hurrying? Hm! Some town! There used to be a hotel over here west a bit."
"The Wellington?"
"Yeah. I don't see it when I pass."
"Torn down."
"Hm!" The deep-set eyes narrow for an instant. Then the motionless one sighs and his shoulders loosen. His face grows alive and he looks this way and that. He starts to walk and walks quickly, leaving the newspaper man standing alone.
* * * * *
The newspaper man watched him. As he stood looking after him some one tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. "Specs" McLaughlin of the detective bureau. "Specs" rubbed his chin contemplatively and smiled.