“Good morning, Burrage,” he said loudly.
“If you don’t mind, it will please me for you to call me by the name I have registered under—Burton,” said Walter, in a low tone. “You know I do not care about being recognized here, and I depend on this beard to serve as a disguise.”
“Rather careless of you, to say the least,” declared Swift. “But I’m perfectly willing to call you any old thing you like. It doesn’t matter to me, and I’m your friend, you know.”
“I hope you are.”
“Oh, I am—your particular friend. How is your arm this morning, old man?”
“Well, you may be sure it doesn’t feel pleasant.”
“Sorry. But you were lucky to get off so easy.”
“That’s right,” agreed Walter.
“You have a way of bumping into hard luck, you know,” said Swift, taking a seat and lighting a cigar before offering one to his companion. “Have a smoke?”
Walter declined.