Barney gave no sign of recognition, and Barlow, after a casual glance at him, returned to his food.
Barney, in solitude at one end of the bar, slowly sipped with a sort of indignation against his kickless purchase.

Presently Gavegan was beside him, having most convincing ill-luck in his attempts to light his cigar from a box of splintering safety matches which stood at that end of the bar.
"Well, what is it ?" Gavegan whispered out of that corner of his mouth which was not occupied by his cigar.

He did not look at Barney.
"Any clue to Larry Brainard yet ?" Barney whispered also out of a corner of his mouth, glass at his lips.

Like-wise he seemed not to notice the man beside him.
"Naw! Still out West somewhere.

Them Chicago bums couldn't catch a crook if he walked along State Street with a sign-board on him!" "Saw Larry Brainard to-night." Gavegan had difficulty in maintaining his attitude of non-awareness of his bar-mate.
"Where ?" "Right here in New York." "What! Where'd you see him ?" "Coming out of the Grantham." "When ?" "Fifteen minutes ago." "Know where he went to ?--where he hangs out ?--know anything else ?" "That's everything.