Frank stared at the man. The force of his manner was such as to carry absolute conviction of his personal feelings upon this matter, feelings which also lay so deep in the heart of the ex-convict. He wondered at the strange chance which had brought him into contact with a man who shared these new feelings and beliefs of his. Could it be——?
"You believe that way, too?" he asked eagerly.
At that moment a waiter from the dining-car entered the coach.
"First call for dinner! First call for dinner!" He passed down the car issuing his invitation in high, nasal tones.
The stranger fumbled in his waistcoat pockets, and, as the waiter passed, he produced his card, and held it out toward his companion.
"Say," he observed, lapsing once more into his more genial manner. "Guess you'll be yearning for a billet when you get along to Toronto. Just keep that by you, and when you're needing one, come and look me up. We're always needing recruits for our work. I'll take it kindly if you'll eat with me right now."
Frank took the card and read the name on it—
MR. AUSTIN LEYBURN,
2012 Mordaunt Avenue, Toronto, Ont.
President of the Agricultural Helpers' Society of Canada.
Gen. Sec. Bonded Railroaders.
Asst.-Gen. Sec. Associated Freighters' Combine.