I noticed now a faint Southern accent in the drawl of his voice.

"New England."

"Ever been south?"

"Only as far as St. Louis. I was at Jefferson Barracks."

"Neale said you were in the army--full enlistment?"

"Yes; discharged as corporal."

"Ah; what regiment?"

"Third Cavalry."

His black eyes swept across toward Neale, his fingers drumming
nervously on the leather arm of the chair.

"Exactly; then your service was in Oregon and the Philippines. Tramped
some since, I understand--broke?"

"No," shortly, not greatly enjoying his style of questioning. "I 've
got three dollars."

"A magnificent sum," chuckling. "However, the point is, you would be
glad of a job that paid well, and would n't mind if there was a bit of
excitement connected with it--hey?"

"What is your idea of paying well?"