“Don't mention it,” said the stranger. “Bet-ter stick it in good and tight this time. They might try to collect a second fare from you if you couldn't show your credentials. Remember, don't you, the story about the calf that ate up his express tag and what the old nigger man said about it?” The stranger's accent stamped him as a Northerner; his manner revealed him indubitably as a man of the world--withal it was a genial manner. He bestowed a suit case alongside in the aisle and slipped into the seat facing Emanuel. Emanuel vaguely felt flattered. It had promised to be rather a lonely journey. “You don't mind my sitting here a bit, do you?” added the man after he was seated. “Not at all--glad to have you,” said Emanuel, meaning it. “Nice weather--if it wasn't so warm,” he continued, making conversation. It started with the weather; but you know how talk runs along. At the end of perhaps ten minutes it had somehow worked around to amusements--checkers and chess and cards. “Speaking of cards now,” said the stranger, “I like a little game once in a while myself. Helps the time to pass away when nothing else will. Fact is, I usually carry a deck along with me just for that purpose. Fact is, I've got a new deck with me now, I think.” He fumbled in the breast pocket of his light flannel coat and glanced about him. “Tell you what--suppose we play a few hands of poker--show-down, you know--for ten cents a corner, say, or a quarter? We could use my suit case for a card table by resting it on our knees between us.” He reached out into the aisle. “I'm much obliged,” said Emanuel with an indefinable sense of pain at having to decline so friendly an invitation; “but, to tell you the truth, I make it a point never to touch cards at all. It wouldn't do--in my position. You see, I'm in a bank at home.” With newly quickened alertness the stranger's eyes narrowed. He put the cards back into his pocket and straightened up attentively. “Oh, yes,” he said, “I see. Well, that being the case, I don't blame you.” Plainly he had not been hurt by Emanuel's refusal to join in so innocent a pastime as dealing show-down hands at ten cents a side. On the contrary he warmed visibly. “A young man in a bank can't be too careful--especially if it's a small town, where everybody knows everybody else's business. You let a young fellow that works in a bank in a small town, or even a medium-sized town, play a few hands of poker and, first thing you know, it's all over the place that he's gambling and they've got an expert on his books. Let's see now--where was it you said you lived?” Emanuel told him. “Well, now, that's a funny thing! I used to know a man in your town. Let's see--what was his name? Parker? Parsons?” He paused. Emanuel shook his head.