For fifteen minutes he stared out the window, until the darkening pane gave back only his own countenance. Then he turned in his seat and spoke to the man behind him. This man was very friendly; he explained at once that he was going to Waltonville to see his only son graduate and that mother and the girls were in the other car. The sending of his son to college had been a heavy expense, but the boy had justified all his hopes and would be able to pay back into the family treasury the amount which he had received.
"My name is Illington," said he in conclusion.
Instead of giving his name in return, the young man asked a question.
"Are you acquainted in Waltonville?"
"A little." Mr. Illington shifted his position so that he might talk more comfortably. He thought of offering to sit with the young man.
"Did you ever hear of any one named Basil Everman?"
The answer came with a kindly, frowning effort to remember.
"No and yes. The name sounds familiar."
"Do you know whether such a person lives in Waltonville now?"
"No, sir, I don't."