"That's mighty good of you," said he finally and in a low tone. "You've been a good friend to me, and the police probably won't thank you for letting me get away; but I appreciate what you've done. Don't let that get past your guard for a minute."
"Haven't you any relatives?"
"I don't want to talk along that line," said Dashington. "If I have, they'll never hear of me until I prove myself a credit to the family."
"Where are you going, from here?"
"I'll take a side-door Pullman out of the country. Haven't a guess where I'll land, but I know it will be a good way off."
"Have you any money?"
Dashington laughed.
"Money? What's that? I haven't a sou markee in my jeans, Matt, and it's that that made me desperate and ready to fall in with Jurgens and his bunch. The lack of a little money puts many a chap to the bad."
Matt drew a roll of bills from his pocket, counted off several and laid them down beside Dashington's plate.
"There's fifty," said he.