"You've probably done nothing," said Trent. "It may be you were expelled from school or university and that makes you think you are a desperate character."
There was silence for a moment or so.
"As it happens," the unknown said, "I was expelled from Harrow and kicked out of Trinity but it isn't for that. I'm known in the army as Private William Smith of the 78th Battalion, City of London Regiment."
"I thought you were an officer," Trent said. Private Smith had the kind of voice which Trent associated with the aristocracy.
"I'm just a plain private like you," Smith said, "although the lowly rank is mine for probably far different reasons."
"I'm not so sure of that," Trent said, a trifle nettled. "I could have had a commission if I wanted it."
"I did have one," Smith returned, "but I didn't mean what I said offensively. I meant only that I dare not accept a commission."
Anthony Trent waited a moment before he answered.
"I'm not so sure of that," he said again.
The reasons for which Trent declined his commission and thereby endured certain hardships not unconnected with sleeping quarters and noisy companionship were entirely to his credit. Always with the fear of exposure before his eyes he did not want to place odium on the status of the American officer as he would have done had screaming headlines in the papers spoken of the capture by police authorities of Lieutenant Anthony Trent the cleverest of modern crooks. But he could not bring himself to speak of this even in his present unusual mood.