"Looking back," continued the man, "I see the reason, too. He fascinated me then, as he does yet. I've had comparatively an easy enough sort of life. I was brought up in town, where there was nothing particular for a boy to do, and when it came college time my father backed me completely. Darley was the opposite exactly, and he interested me. He was unsocial; somehow that interested me more. I used to wonder why he was so when I first knew him; bit by bit I gathered his history and I wondered less. He's had a rough-and-tumble time of it from a youngster up." The voice halted suddenly, and the speaker looked at his companion equivocally. "Still interested, are you, Elice? I don't want to be a bore." "Yes." "I'll give you the story then as I've patched it together from time to time. I suppose he had parents once; but as they never figured, I infer they died when he was young. He came from the tall meadows out West straight to the University here. How he got the educational ambition I haven't the remotest idea; somehow he got it and somehow he came. It must have been a rub to make it. He's mentioned times of working on a farm, of chopping ties in Missouri, of heaving coal in a bituminous mine in Iowa, of--I don't know what all. And still he was only a boy when I first saw him; a great, big, over-aged boy with a big chin and bigger hands. The peculiar part is that he wasn't awkward and never has been. Even when he first showed up here green the boys never made a mark of him." Again the short expressive laugh. "I think perhaps they were a bit afraid of him." "And he got right into the University?" "Bless you, no; only tentatively. He had a lot of back work to make up at the academy. That didn't bother him apparently. He swallowed that and the regular course whole and cried for more." Armstrong stretched lazily. His hands sought his pockets. "I guess that's about all I know of the story," he completed. "All except after he was graduated." It was interest genuine now. "So you have begun to take notice at last," commented Armstrong, smilingly. "I'm a better _raconteur_ than I imagined. When it comes to being specific, though, after he graduated, I admit I can't say much authoritatively. He'll talk about anything, ordinarily, except himself. I know of a dozen cases from the papers, some of them big ones, that he's been concerned in during the last few years; but he's never mentioned them to me. He seemed to get in right from the start. How he managed to turn the trick I haven't the slightest conception; he simply did. As I said before, he grows to be more of an enigma to me all the time." Apparently the girl lost interest in the party under discussion; at least she asked no more questions and, dilatory as usual when not definitely directed, Armstrong dropped the lead. For a minute they sat so, gazing out into the night, silent. Under stimulus of a new thought, point blank, whimsical, came a change of subject.