The boy, so-called, was a callow young gentleman of twenty-five, dark-haired and brown-complexioned. He had a pleasant smile but rather a vacant expression, and in Jarman's mind was sized up, not exactly as a fool, but as a youth of rather weak will. He thrust forward a slim hand, and gave Eustace a nerveless handshake.
"How do you do?" he said, talking very fast. "I never met you in 'Frisco, but I saw you often. I'm Chicago m'self, and came to this old country along with the Captain and Miss Berry."
"You never met in 'Frisco?" asked Fan, addressing Jarman.
"No. I heard you talk of Mr. Denham, though."
It seemed to Eustace that both Fan and her uncle were rather relieved by this admission, and he wondered what connection this fool could have with the game the two were playing. He fancied that Denham was the pigeon, and Berry & Co. the hawks. It also struck him that if he could get Natty to himself he might find out something, always supposing that the young fellow knew anything. Later on, after a desultory and friendly conversation, Natty gave him an opening.
"I say," said he, "you live down in Essex?"
"Yes. At Wargrove."
Natty nodded to Fan and the Captain. "I knew," he said. "Can't understand how it slipped my memory."
"What slipped your memory, Bub?" asked Berry, sharply.
"Why, that he"--he nodded towards Eustace--"was in Essex. When Starth took me down to see that pretty sister of his, he said something about Jarman. I remember now."