“Indeed?”
“Yes, and no wonder. He was talking to a black-looking ruffian who bothers me.”
“Bothers you?”
“Yes, I know I’ve seen him before, and I can’t make out where.”
“Was it at the steeplechase?” said Richard, quietly.
“You’ve hit it, Dick,” cried Pratt. “That’s the man. Why weren’t you called to the bar? But I say, why did you name him? You know something—you’ve seen them together.”
“I have.”
“Um!” said Pratt, looking hard at his friend. “Then what does it mean?”
“Can’t say,” said Richard, quietly—“only that it don’t concern us.”
“I don’t know that,” said Pratt; “it may, and strongly. But tell me this, how long have you been in town?”