Mr. Braddock eyed him narrowly.
“Look here,” he said, “I’ll tell you something—something that’ll interest you—something that’ll interest you very much. You’re Sam Shotter.”
“That’s it.”
“We were at school together.”
“We were.”
“The dear old school.”
“Exactly.”
Intense delight manifested itself in Mr. Braddock’s face. He seized Sam’s hand and wrung it warmly.
“How are you, my dear old chap, how are you?” he cried. “Old Sham Spotter, by gad! By Jove! By George! My goodness! Fancy that! Well, good-bye.”
And with a beaming smile he suddenly swooped across the road and was lost to sight.