“Get into this chair,” Sydney ordered
Painfully the man obeyed, disclosing a face gaunt from hunger but as youthful as Sydney’s own, and a slender, emaciated frame.
“Gee! You’re just a kid, too. What’re you up against?” he questioned as he put the kitchen door key in his pocket and locked the window. “You don’t look the housebreaker part one little bit,” he continued, and began to build a fire.
“I’m certainly an amateur; this is my first appearance,” the youth returned in a husky voice.
“You’ve queered yourself with this audience; why did you try it?”
“No home, no work, no money, and everybody afraid of me—tuberculosis they think I have.”
“Have you?”
“I think not; but I soon shall have it if I don’t find work and enough to eat. I haven’t slept in a bed for a week; no money for ten days.”