Stepping quietly up to the young man, the detective said, carelessly: 

“Your name is Bob King, I believe?”

Somewhat confused by the abrupt salutation, the young fellow replied, rather awkwardly: 

“Yes, that’s my name; but you’ve got the brakes on me, for I don’t remember that I ever saw you before.”

“Perhaps not,” answered Manning, “but I want to have a little private conversation with you for a few minutes.  Can we go somewhere where we will not be interrupted?”

“Why, yes,” responded the other, still evidently ill at ease, “come in here.”  And turning about, he led the way through a door across the hall, and entered a small and plainly furnished sitting-room.

“Wait,” said Manning, as if suddenly conceiving an idea.  “The morning is pleasant, and I have a good cigar here; suppose we take a short walk together.  We can talk as we stroll along.”

“All right,” said King, as he took the proffered cigar, and lighting it, they went out of the hotel into the street.

Mr. Robert King eyed the detective furtively ever and anon, and seemed to be impatient for him to begin the conversation, and inform him what it was all about.  There was, however, such a perfect air of ease and unconcern about Manning, that the young brakeman felt impelled to accompany him whether he would or not.  Manning led the way in the direction of the office of the chief of police, and after they had fairly started, he turned to his companion, and good-naturedly said: 

“Mr. King, I suppose you are quite anxious to know who I am, and what is the nature of my business with you?”

“Well, yes,” answered King, smilingly, for the sang froid of Manning had quite won his heart.  “I would like to know both of those things.”

“Well,” said the detective, “my name is John Manning, and I am a native of Chicago.  I am an intimate friend of ‘Tod’ Duncan’s, and want to know where to find him.”

“You will have to ask somebody that can tell you, then,” answered King, who had now fully recovered his composure, “for I don’t know anything about him.”

“Why,” ejaculated Manning, as though quite surprised at the information, “I thought that you and Tod went off on a hunting or fishing party a few weeks ago, and that you came home, leaving Tod to continue his journey alone.”

“That’s a mistake,” said King, “and whoever informed you to that effect was as much mistaken as you are.”

Mr. King was evidently trying the good-natured game of bluff, and Manning noticed with some satisfaction that they were now approaching very near to the office of Mr. Wallace.

“See here,” said he, suddenly turning on his companion.  “Mr. King, this won’t do.  Duncan is wanted for the Geneva bank robbery.  He was here three weeks ago, and you were with him.  You got him out of town, and if you are not disposed to be communicative, I have simply got to place you under arrest.”