He was somewhat expert in judging human nature; and the full, square chin, the frank, open look in those steady gray eyes across the table left him doubtful of the final outcome.
"No doubt, my addressing you by name was something of a surprise," he began, leaning slightly forward, his cigar between his fingers; "but as it chanced, you were pointed out to me on the street a few hours since.
May I inquire in this connection if, by any freak of fortune, you can be Ned Winston, of Denver ?" "I am." Farnham permitted his lips to smile genially, although his eyes remained utterly devoid of humor.

He was skating upon rather thin ice now, realizing it to be far safer to make the venture in all boldness.
What he might need to say later would altogether depend upon how much this man really knew.
"I was not previously assured of that fact," he explained, pleasantly.
"It was my pleasure at one time to be quite intimately associated with an old friend of yours, a college chum, I believe--Robert Craig, of Chicago." The swift light of pleasant remembrance glowed instantly within the other's watchful eyes.

For the moment he dropped his guard in the surprise of this avowal.
"Bob Craig! Indeed; why, I do not recall his ever having mentioned your name to me." Farnham's suspended breath burst through his compressed lips in sudden relief.
"Very probably not," he admitted, quietly, yet having the grace to lower his eyes slightly.

"My own intimacy with Craig occurred since his college days.

However, he has spoken to me regarding you quite frequently, and I naturally esteem it a pleasure to meet with you personally." Winston did not immediately reply, puzzling his confused mind in a wholly useless attempt at recalling his ever having heard this man's name before.