"Are you Mr. Soapy Stone's friend, the one just down from Dead Cow creek?" asked the boy. Taken as a whole, the answer was open to debate. But Curly nodded and took the note. This was what he read: Sam, come to Chalkeye's place soon as you get this. There we will talk over the business. You Know Who. Though he did not know who, Curly thought he could give a pretty good guess both as to the author and the business that needed talking over. Through the open door of the hotel he saw Sam approaching. Quickly he sealed the flap of the envelope again, and held it pressed against his fingers while he waited. "A letter for you, Sam." Cullison tore open the envelope and read the note. "A friend of mine has come to town and wants to see me," he explained. To help out his bluff, Curly sprang the feeble-minded jest on him. "Blonde or brunette?" "I'm no lady's man," Sam protested, content to let the other follow a wrong scent. "Sure not. It never is a lady," Flandrau called after him as he departed. But Sam had no more than turned the corner before Curly was out of a side door and cutting through an alley toward Chalkeye's place. Reaching the back door of the saloon, he opened it a few inches and peered in. A minute later Sam opened the front screen and asked a question of the man in the apron. The bartender gave a jerk of his thumb. Sam walked toward the rear and turned in at the second private booth. Curly slipped forward quietly, and passed unobserved into the third stall. The wall which divided one room from another was of pine boarding and did not reach the ceiling. As the eavesdropper slid to a seat a phonograph in front began the Merry Widow waltz. Noiselessly Flandrau stood on the cushioned bench with his ear close to the top of the dividing wall. He could hear a murmur of voices but could not make out a word. The record on the instrument wheezed to silence, but immediately a rag-time tune followed. Presently the music died away. Flattened against the wall, his attention strained to the utmost, Curly began to catch words and phrases of the low-voiced speakers in the next compartment. His position was perilous in the extreme, but he would not leave now until he had found out what he wanted to know. CHAPTER IX EAVESDROPPING Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that of Soapy Stone, alias You Know Who. " ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...." After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover the passengers...." The listener lost what followed. Once he thought he heard the name Tin Cup, but he could not be sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him. "...make our getaway and cache the plunder...."