West nodded.

"Know Fred Karvan, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes; friend of yours?"

"Used to be; we were kids together down on the southside. He's got a
pretty soft job now; stands in strong with the City Hall, they tell me.
Mean to drop in and see him some of these days."

"You'll find him a mighty good fellow," asserted West to whom the name
was entirely unfamiliar.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. He's got pretty stiff the last few
years they tell me. But then you work under him, and ought to know. Head
of your department, isn't he?"

"Yes, but I only meet him in a business way, of course."

"Sure; but that is the way you get to know them best. Been a soldier,
haven't you?"

"Yes, but what made you think that?" in some surprise at the unexpected
query. The man laughed, lighting a cigar carelessly.

"Oh, it has not been so long since, that the evidence is obliterated.
I've got a habit of noticing things. The way you sit, and square your
shoulders told me you'd been in uniform; besides you're the right age.
Get across to France?"