The young heir of the Empire Machine Shops might never have known the little Socialist machinist; but recognition was so evident on Jimmie's face, that Lacey was set groping in his own mind. Now and then as the party walked along he stole an uneasy glance at his fellow-countryman; and presently when they struck a road, and sat down to rest and wait for a vehicle of some sort, Lacey put himself beside Jimmie and began: “You're the fellow that was in the house that night, aren't you?”
Jimmie nodded; and the young lord of Leesville looked at him uneasily, looked away, and then looked back. “I've got something I want to ask you,” he said.
“What's that?”
“Don't give me away.”
“How do you mean?”
“Don't tell who I am: There's no reason why anybody should know. I'm trying to get away from it.”
“I see,” said Jimmie. “I won't tell.”
“You promise?”
“Sure.”
Then was a silence. Then suddenly, with no reason that Jimmie could see, the other exclaimed: “You'll tell!”