The atmosphere of the bar-room had been changed by the arrival of Dean. It lost its usual serenity and quivered with excitement. The deference shown to Dean was marked in the attitude of the men in his suite; it was marked, too, by the bartender’s attitude, and even in that of Gibbs, though Gibbs was more quiet and self-contained, bearing himself, indeed, quite as Dean’s equal. He did not look at Dean often, but stood at his bar with his head lowered, gazing thoughtfully at the glass of mineral water he was drinking, turning it round and round in his fingers, with a faint smile on his lips. But no one could tell whether the amusement came from his own thoughts or the little adventures Dean was relating. "No, I’m going out in the morning," Dean was saying, the diamond on his white, delicate hand flashing as he lifted his glass. "Which way?" asked Gibbs. "I’m working eastward," said Dean. "Here!" he turned to the bartender, "let’s have another--and get another barrel of water for Dan." He smiled with what tolerance he could find for a man who did not drink. "How much of that stuff do you lap up in a week, Dan?" "Oh, I don’t know," Gibbs said. He was not quick at repartee. "Well, slush up, but don’t make yourself sick," Dean went on. The bartender, moving briskly about, pressed the cork from a bottle, poured a few drops into Dean’s glass, and then proceeded to fill the other glasses. "Well, how’s the graft?" Gibbs asked presently. "Oh, fairly good," said Dean. "A couple of bucks yesterday." He switched his leg with the slender stick he carried. Gibbs’s eyes lighted with humorous interest and pleasure. "They were coming out of St. Louis," Dean went on, and then, as if he had perhaps given an exaggerated impression of the transaction, he went on in a quick, explicatory way: "Oh, it didn’t amount to much--just for the fun of the thing, you know. But say, who do you think I saw in St. Louis?" "Don’t know," said Gibbs, shaking his head. "Why, old Tom Young." "No!" exclaimed Gibbs, looking up in genuine interest and surprise. "Sure," said Dean. "What’s he doing?" "He made the big touch, quit the business, got a farm in Illinois, and settled down with Lou. The girl’s grown up, just out of a seminary, and the boy’s in college. He said he’d like me to see the place, but he wouldn’t take me out ’cause the girl was home then. Remember the old joint in the alley?" Gibbs’s eyes kindled with lively memories. "Remember that afternoon Bob’s man came down for the brace-box? I can see Tom now--he gets the box and says, ’Tell Bob not to frisk him.’ God! They sent that mark through the alley that afternoon to a fare-you-well. And they had hell’s own time keepin’ the box in advance of ’em--it was the only one in the alley. Remember?" Gibbs remembered, but that did not keep Dean from relating the whole story. "What became of Steve Harris?" Dean asked. "He’s out with the rag, I guess," Gibbs replied.