They kept eyes and ears wide open, but an hour passed by and nothing had occurred to indicate that the men they sought were in the place. “I had better make some inquiries,” said Marcus finally. In an ante-room to the rear they could discern that a lot of men were playing at cards. Finally, just as Marcus was about to speak to some one in the room about Daley, a man hastened into the saloon from the street. “Where’s Spofford?” he asked of the bartender. Marcus and Dean observed the man closely. They felt an intuition that he would interest them, and his query for Spofford was indicative of a further knowledge of Daley. “In the cardroom, Daley,” replied the man at the bar. “It’s our man--it’s Daley!” murmured Dean Mercer excitedly. CHAPTER XXII. ON THE TRAIL. The man who had entered the basement drinking place at once centered the attention of both Dean and Marcus, although he did not appear to notice them. He went straight to the door of the room behind the main apartment and tried the door. It was locked, but he knocked vigorously, and then, as it was opened, he called in to the crowd gathered about a card table: “Spofford, come out here!” A man left the inner room somewhat reluctantly, and the man the boys supposed to be Daley led the way to a table just around a jog in the wall, from that at which sat Dean and Marcus. Thus the boys could not see the men, but Marcus, by tilting back in his chair, could hear what they were saying. “You ought to know better, drinking and playing cards, when we need our wits and cash for the venture we’re on,” said Daley, rather irritably. “Come now, Spofford, this won’t do.” “Pshaw! I’ve got to pass the time some way.” “Then do it sleeping--you’ll need it before we end this affair.” “Is it settled?” “Yes.” “Found your man?” “I have.” “Where?” “Ask no questions. The work will come soon enough. The last affair about that boy----” “Rawley?” “The _Spray_ fellow, yes, paid us well enough, but the money is all gone. Downey gave me a hint about a rich fellow who always keeps lots of money in the house.” “Near here?” “A brief journey. So I’ve made inquiries. I believe we can break into his strong box and carry off a fortune.” “When do we go?” “About noon.” “Need tools?” “Yes, and the best, and a boy, too.” Some of this conversation Dean overheard distinctly. The allusion to Downey, undoubtedly Tim Downey, startled him greatly. It verified the shrewd suspicions of Marcus. The latter heard all that the two men said, and his eyes glowed intelligently. He hoped they would talk more in detail, or allude in more definite terms to “the boy, Rawley,” but they did not. They were bad men, common criminals, and they now meditated a new crime--burglary! They intended, their conversation showed, to break into some rich man’s house for the purpose of theft. Marcus believed that their share in the abduction of Dean Mercer had been that of hired emissaries. They were not the principals.