"Yes, but I only meet him in a business way, of course."
"Sure; but that is the way you get to know them best. Been a soldier, haven't you?"
"Yes, but what made you think that?" in some surprise at the unexpected query. The man laughed, lighting a cigar carelessly.
"Oh, it has not been so long since, that the evidence is obliterated. I've got a habit of noticing things. The way you sit, and square your shoulders told me you'd been in uniform; besides you're the right age. Get across to France?"
"Had over a year there," wondering what the fellow could be angling after. "You didn't get in?"
"No; I was over the limit. I was thinking you might be interested in looking over a collection of war relics Mike has got stowed away here somewhere. He had two boys over there, and I reckon they must have put in most of their time gathering up souvenirs. Anyhow they brought back the greatest collection of war junk I've ever seen. Say, Mike, what did you do with those war relics the boys sent home?"
The fellow addressed leaned over the bar, his face glowing with sudden interest.
"They vas in the back-room, all spread out. Why you ask? The gentlemen would see them, what?"
"Yes; this one was a soldier himself. Maybe he can tell more about them than the boys could. How is it? You fellows like to see the things?"
West hesitated for just an instant, his eyes turning unconsciously toward Sexton, who had not spoken. He felt no suspicion, merely a vague doubt as to what this invitation might conceal. Yet it had all been natural enough, and promised an opportunity for him to learn something more of the place. An accident might reveal the very discovery he was eagerly seeking. Besides there could be no danger; both he and Sexton were armed, and apparently the invitation was innocently extended. To refuse to accept would be churlish.
"Certainly," he said at last, quaffing the last of his beer and rising to his feet. "It will be nothing new to me, I imagine, but we'll have a look."
The other man, who had been leaning against the bar, had disappeared, while the fellow at the table had seemingly fallen asleep. Mike came forward with a bunch of keys in his hand.
"I keep dot room locked," he exclaimed gruffly, "for some beoples run off with all dings they get their fingers on. Hey, you, Carl," and he roughly shook the sleeper into semi-consciousness, "wake up, and see to the bar awhile. I've got some business. Whoever comes, you keep them here--understand. All right, gents."