Parks ventured a word or two and presently led Detective Jones into a conversation. He was a highly educated man, and he had the gift of telling a story in an interesting fashion.
“By the way,” he said; “have you any objection to my smoking?”
“No; go ahead,” said Jones, pleasantly.
With his unfettered left hand Parks drew from his pocket a cigar case, fumbled with it a minute or two, and soon had a long, black weed between his teeth.
“Can I offer you a smoke?” he asked, hesitatingly.
The cigar case stopped on its way to his pocket, while he waited for the detective’s answer.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”
There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes as the detective struck a match and lit up.
Parks talked on pleasantly for a little while, but soon relapsed into silence as the train rushed on, carrying him nearer and nearer to Sing Sing.