An hour later, as he took his place at the table in the Criterion Gardens, a hand fell on his shoulder and some one at his back said:
"Well, Bub!"
He turned. A thin man of medium height, with blue eyes and yellow complexion, was laughing in expectation of his discomfiture. Frawley laid down the menu carefully, raised his head, and answered quietly:
"Why, how d'ye do, Bucky?"
[a/]
III
"We shake, of course," said Greenfield, holding out his hand.
"Why not? Sit down."
The fugitive slid into a chair and hung his arms over the back, asking immediately: