“I’m sorry for you, son,” he protested, “but that’s the funniest thing that’s come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes, too, and fancy water! I wish you could see your face,” he taunted.
Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.
“All right,” he declared roughly. “The laugh’s on me this time, but just because I lost one trick, don’t think I don’t know my business. Now that I’m wise to what YOU are we can work together and—”
The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws snapped like a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly contemptuous.
“Not with ME you can’t work!” he said.
“Don’t think because I fell down on this,” Ford began hotly.
“I’m not thinking of you at all,” said Ashton. “You’re a nice little fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the ‘straight and narrow’ that leads back to little old New York and God’s country, and I am warranted not to run off my trolley.”
The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill of satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the young man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.
“It’s like this,” he said. “Several years ago I made a bad break and, about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can bet I’m GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I’ve had all I want of the ‘fugitive-from-justice’ game, thank you, and I have taken good care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won’t have to play it again. They’ve been trying to get me for several years—especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe. Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they’ve tried everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a ‘Pink,’ that’s why—”
“I!” interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. “That’s GOOD! That’s one on YOU.” He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. “How do you know I’m not?” he asked.