“How are you, Pilot?” he said quietly.
Flynn swung round and viewed him sharply through a pair of sinister, beady black eyes.
“What’s eating you?” he snarled under his breath, suspiciously.
“Don’t know me, eh?” queried Patsy.
“Not so you’d notice it.”
“Well, don’t show any surprise when I tell you,” cautioned Patsy. “I’ve been looking for you. I’m—whisper! Patsy Garvan.”
Flynn’s hangdog face lost some of its color. He drew back, muttering an oath, then quickly added:
“Looking for me? You’re not——”
“No, I’m not going to take you in,” put in Patsy. “Nothing of that kind.”
“What d’ye want, then?” Flynn asked, with a look of relief.