The man rolled a cigarette and smoked for a minute, studying his dirty boots, which were crossed before him. Presently, with a sharp jerk of his head, he removed his cigarette and turned.
“What you doing in this district? Working on the job?”
“Not at present.”
“Any particular place you’re bound for?”
“Yes—Camp Forty-seven.”
The other’s eyes narrowed. “So? Where are you from?”
“I came from Los Angeles this morning,” Nash said quietly, annoyed by the direct questions, but unwilling to make trouble.
His companion’s interest deepened instantly.
“Newspaper man, eh?” He said this evidently because of Nash’s trim and clean appearance.
“Hardly that,” Nash answered, smiling at the mistake.