Greenleaf turned. When he recognized Herbert, he looked surprised and disconcerted. But he had plenty of assurance, and quickly determined upon his course. Assuming a stolid look, he said: “Well, my lad, who are you; and what do you want?”
“You know who I am, well enough,” said Herbert, angrily.
“Do I? Then I'm uncommonly forgetful. I haven't any recollection of your interesting countenance,” he said, with a sneer.
“I suppose you don't want to remember me, Mr. Greenleaf,” said Herbert.
“Greenleaf! You are thinking of somebody else. My name's Thompson.”
“Your name was Greenleaf when you stopped with me at French's Hotel,” said Herbert, sturdily.
“You're crazy, I fancy,” said Greenleaf, shrugging his shoulders. “I never stopped at the hotel you mention, in my life.”
“Where's the money you took from me?” demanded Herbert, who felt convinced of Greenleaf's identity, in spite of his denial.
“What are you talking about?” said Greenleaf, assuming a look of surprise.
“You went off before I was awake, with more than fifty dollars of mine.”