The bartender, moving briskly about, pressed the cork from a bottle, poured a few drops into Dean's glass, and then proceeded to fill the other glasses.
"Well, how's the graft?" Gibbs asked presently.
"Oh, fairly good," said Dean. "A couple of bucks yesterday." He switched his leg with the slender stick he carried.
Gibbs's eyes lighted with humorous interest and pleasure.
"They were coming out of St. Louis," Dean went on, and then, as if he had perhaps given an exaggerated impression of the transaction, he went on in a quick, explicatory way: "Oh, it didn't amount to much--just for the fun of the thing, you know. But say, who do you think I saw in St. Louis?"
"Don't know," said Gibbs, shaking his head.
"Why, old Tom Young."
"No!" exclaimed Gibbs, looking up in genuine interest and surprise.
"Sure," said Dean.
"What's he doing?"