"Hound, I said, you smug brat! You know me—you've not forgotten my name so soon."
"Teevan, I believe. Really, Mr. Teevan—I——"
"Randall Gordon Teevan! The name meant something to you, didn't it?"
"No; it didn't mean anything to me."
"Ah! say that again!" He came toward the younger man to peer up into his face with a grinning, incredulous scowl. "Say it again!"
Ewing drew back from his scrutiny with a slight impatience.
"Why say it again? Isn't once enough? You hear well, don't you? What should your name mean to me?"
"You still try to carry that off? Your game isn't ready to play?"
Ewing resumed his patient search.
"See here, Mr. Teevan, let's be very quiet and get at this. I never heard your name until an hour ago. Perhaps it ought to mean something to me, but it doesn't. I'm not well acquainted in New York; I only came here to-day. Now"—his voice became cajoling—"suppose you sit down there quietly and tell me all about yourself."