"Mr. Quarterpage," said Spargo, "what's your own honest opinion?"
The old gentleman smiled.
"Ah!" he said. "I've often wondered, Mr. Spargo, if I really have an opinion on that point. I think that what I probably feel about the whole affair is that there was a good deal of mystery attaching to it. But we seem, sir, to have gone a long way from the question of that old silver ticket which you've got in your purse. Now"
"No!" said Spargo, interrupting his host with an accompanying wag of his forefinger. "No! I think we're coming nearer to it. Now you've given me a great deal of your time, Mr. Quarterpage, and told me a lot, and, first of all, before I tell you a lot, I'm going to show you something."
And Spargo took out of his pocket-book a carefully-mounted photograph of John Marbury—the original of the process-picture which he had had made for the Watchman. He handed it over.
"Do you recognize that photograph as that of anybody you know?" he asked. "Look at it well and closely."
Mr. Quarterpage put on a special pair of spectacles and studied the photograph from several points of view.
"No, sir," he said at last with a shake of the head. "I don't recognize it at all."
"Can't see in it any resemblance to any man you've ever known?" asked Spargo.
"No, sir, none!" replied Mr. Quarterpage. "None whatever."
