"A perfectly harmless one," said Grumbach, mopping his forehead.
This movement brought Carmichael's eye to the scar. Grumbach acknowledged the stare by running his finger along the subject.
"I came near passing in my checks the day I got that," he volunteered. "Everybody looks at it when I take off my hat. I've tried tonics, but the hair won't grow there."
"Where did you get it?"
"At Gettysburg."
"Gettysburg?" with a lively facial change. "You were in the war?"
"All through it."
Carmichael was no longer indifferent. He gave his hand.
"I've got a few scars myself. What regiment?"
"The --th cavalry, New York."
"What troop?" with growing excitement.
"C troop."
"I was captain of B troop in the same regiment. Hurrah! Work's over for the day. Come along with me, Grumbach, and we'll talk it over down-stairs in the Black Eagle. You're a godsend. C troop! Hanged if the world doesn't move things about oddly. I was in the hospital myself after Gettysburg; a ball in the leg. And I've rheumatism even now when a damp spell comes."
So down to the tavern they went, and there they talked the battles over, sundry tankards interpolating. It was "Do you remember this?" and, "Do you recall that?" with diagrams drawn in beer on the oaken table.
"But there's one thing, my boy," said Carmichael.
"What's that?"
"The odds were on our side, or we'd be fighting yet."
"That we would. The poor devils were always hungry when we whipped them badly."
"But you're from this side of the water?"
"Yes; went over when I was twenty-two." Grumbach sucked his pipe stolidly.
"What part of Germany?"
"Bavaria; it is so written in my passports."
"Munich?"
Grumbach circled the room. All the near tables were vacant. The Black Eagle was generally a lonely place till late in the afternoon. Grumbach touched the scar tenderly. Could he trust this man? Could he trust any one in the world? The impulse came to trust Carmichael, and he did not disregard it.
"I was born in this very street," he whispered.
"Here?"
"Sh! Not so loud! Yes, in this very street. But if the police knew, I wouldn't be worth that!"--with a snap of the fingers. "My passports, my American citizenship, they would be worthless. You know that."
"But what does this all mean? What have you done that you can't come back here openly?" Here was a mystery. This man with the kindly face and frank eyes could be no ordinary criminal. "Can I help you in any way?"
"No; no one can help me."
"But why did you come back? You were safe enough in New York."