“I don’t know him.”

Blair looked at his companion in undisguised amazement.

“Here you’ve been telling me you were acquainted with Mike Quick.”

“So I am.”

“There he is, standing at the bar.”

“Is that man’s name Mike Quick?” asked Frank innocently.

“Of course it is.”

“That’s strange,” remarked the detective nonchalantly; “the Mike Quick I know is a young fellow like myself. Perhaps it is that chap’s son.”

“He ain’t got a son.”

“I never saw that man before.”