The cool of the night, Southern California's balm to aid sleep "knit up the raveled sleeve of care," chilled them. Murphy took frequent "nips" from a flask, which he offered generously to his companions each time before he put it to his mouth. Brennan told them stories of experiences in the Canadian northwest and adventures in a "comic opera" revolution in Central America. Murphy supplied anecdotes of the ring, things he had seen and done as a second at boxing matches. John listened to them, enraptured. Somewhere a clock struck the half hour, and as the sound died away they heard quick footsteps approaching them. Murphy looked cautiously around the corner of the brick wall and brought himself back with a jerk. "It's them," he said, in a hoarse whisper. He stepped back to make room for John and Brennan at the narrow aperture looking out on the alley. Two figures passed their hiding place, walking hurriedly. The taller of the two strode with a quick, easy step that John recognized. "That's Gibson," he said in a sharp whisper. "It certainly is," corroborated Brennan. "And it's the 'Gink' with him." They watched the figures until they halted at the rear of the saloon. They saw Cummings reach in his pocket for the key and open the door while Gibson glanced up and down the alley. When they had disappeared into the building Brennan stepped out into the alley, motioning to Murphy and John to follow him. Again in single file, with Murphy taking the lead from Brennan, they walked warily toward the saloon, holding close to the back walls of buildings so as not to be seen from either end of the alley. Murphy removed the padlock from the basement door and opened it with precautionary slowness to minimize the rasping of the rusty hinges. He closed it again when they had entered the impenetrable darkness of the basement. Led by Murphy, who held the flashlight, they went ahead on tiptoe until they reached a spot which they judged was directly beneath the little room in which they believed Cummings and Gibson were in surreptitious conference. There they strained their ears to catch the sound of voices above them. John's heart thumped against his ribs and he imagined his breathing sounded like a gust of wind. The floor of the room above was less than three feet above their heads. A chair scraped on the floor. Then they heard voices. Tense, holding their breath, they poised in utter silence, straining to distinguish what was being said by the two in the room above their heads. John felt a sinking sensation of disappointment as he realized it would be impossible for them to hear the conversation between the "Gink" and Gibson from where they were listening. The voices that came down to them were jumbled, faint, indistinguishable. Once Gibson laughed. Again the two voices above them stopped suddenly as if the two conspirators had heard a warning sound.