“Did you come by the up stage from Stockton this afternoon?” said Carden, looking up.
“Yes, as far as Ten-mile Station—rode the rest of the way here.”
“Did you notice a queer little old-fashioned kid—about so high—like a runaway school-boy?”
“Did I? By G—d, sir, he treated me to drinks.”
Carden jumped from his chair. “Then he wasn't lying!”
“No! We let him do it; but we made it good for the little chap afterwards. Hello! What's up?”
But Mr. Carden was already in the outer office beside the clerk who had admitted Clarence.
“You remember that boy Brant who was here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did he go?”