"Guess I'm real sorry," he said.
Frank shook his head.
"It doesn't matter—now. It's done me good to tell—somebody. See." He drew out his prison discharge and showed it to his companion, who read it over carefully. "You don't need to take my word. That'll tell you all you need to know."
The other looked up.
"Frank Smith?" he said.
"Frank Burton's my name. I used the other so as to keep it from folks I didn't want to know about it."
"I see." The stranger was studying the clean cut of the ingenuous face beside him. "And now they'll know—I s'pose?"
"They've found out for themselves." The youngster's blue eyes were shadowed in gloom.
"Ah!" The other glanced out of the window a moment. "And—what are you going to do? Go back to—'em?"
The gloomy blue eyes were turned away. Frank was staring introspectively down the aisle of the car.