“Eureka, Dean!” he said, “I have got good news. The boy has learned all about the treatment given you by Justice Mullern through the hostler. The man who pretended to be your uncle was a man by the name of Daley, who lives in Springfield. He had another man with him whose name was Spofford.” “That is news worth waiting for,” declared Dean. “What next?” “I am going to call on this precious scamp who deals out justice in pieces that you can cut. Have patience with me long enough to see if I can beard the lion in his den.” Half an hour later Marcus Ellison boldly rang the door bell of the Mullern mansion. A servant answered the summons. “I wish to see Justice Mullern,” explained Marcus. “This way.” The justice sat at his desk in the library writing. He stared wonderingly at Marcus’ uncouth figure. “Well, boy?” he frowned. “Are you Judge Mullern?” “I am.” “I wanted to find a gentleman you know, sir.” “Who is he?” “His name is Daley.” The justice started and looked alarmed. “Who?” he demanded huskily. “Daley.” “Don’t know him.” “Oh, yes, you do, judge,” replied Marcus audaciously. “You insolent----” “Hold on, judge.” “How dare you?” “I know you know him, and there’s no use denying it,” said Marcus firmly. “See here, judge, there’s trouble.” “Trouble--trouble?” stammered Mullern vaguely. “Yes, sir.” “For who?” “For you.” “What do you mean?” “Well, I don’t want to give away any secrets, but I’ve got to see Daley, and quick, too, or the whole Robert Rawley case will come out on you.” Justice Mullern was very pale now. He stammered and reflected, and then said: “Daley lives in Springfield. I think he once told me at Boyer’s Hotel.” “Thank you, sir.” “Hold on.” “Well, sir?” “What--what trouble is anticipated?” asked Mullern uneasily. “None for you, I reckon, if I see Daley.” “Sure?” “I reckon not,” and Marcus, with a chuckle of delight, hastened to the spot where Dean was waiting for him. They chatted cheerily as they followed the road toward Springfield, which they reached the next morning, just before daylight. “Don’t you feel afraid to go about the streets here?” asked Dean timidly. “No; we’re safer in the busy, crowded city than in the country,” responded Marcus. “Besides, we are safe anywhere in our disguise.” Marcus at once set about locating Boyer’s Hotel. It proved to be the very place whence Tim Downey had brought Daley and Spofford the night of the burning of the _Spray_. It had an all-night saloon in the basement, and rooms overhead, and both boys decided that it was a resort for loafers and rough characters. They went boldly down into the basement. There was a sign outside which read: “Coffee, 5 cents; coffee and rolls, 10 cents.” “We’ll buy a lunch just to look around,” said Marcus. The place was crowded, and no one seemed to pay any particular attention to them. The boys dispatched their breakfast and then sat down at a table in a dark corner of the saloon.