“Hold on!” cried the other, jumping up; “I don’t want much from you, and I’ll tell you anything you wish to know.”
“I have no doubt of it,” replied Herbert; “but unfortunately you are not the man I want.”
“Oh, yes, I am,” insisted the other eagerly, “I’m the man that called on David Harkins at Cleverly.”
Herbert shook his head and shrugged his shoulders; then as if it were an afterthought, he turned to the seedy-looking person and said:
“Do you insist that you are the identical man who called on David Harkins?”
“I insist,” repeated the man, trying to draw himself up in a dignified way.
“Now, I am sure that I have no business with you,” said Herbert, “because it so happens that the man who called on David Harkins had bright red hair—it was bushy, too, while you are almost bald-headed and your hair is black.”
The fellow snickered a little at this, and said:
“I lost me hair durin’ a very bad attack o’ fever.”
Herbert could not forbear smiling himself.