“I’ll tell that to Low.”
“Then you can tell it to me.”
“Why, are you——”
“Yes, I am. My name’s Hank Low.”
Nick had guessed as much.
He held out his hand in the darkness and grasped that of the man who had saved his life.
Low returned the grasp rather feebly.
“Mr. Low,” said Nick, “I am more obliged to you than ever.”
“What do you want of me?” demanded Low, in a surly tone.
“I want to talk to you about the land you sold some months ago.”