"The question is," came from the man named Tate, "how are we going to get at it? Do you think you'll be able to see the documents this man Rover must carry?" "Of course I'll see them. I'll get at them some way," returned Carson Davenport firmly. He was a large-built man, with coal-black eyes and black hair and his face had a rather cruel expression. "Somebody said that Lorimer Spell placed his valuables in some safe deposit vault," went on one of the men. "In that case, this Richard Rover wouldn't have them." "I don't see why not," said another. "If he became Spell's heir he would have a right to do anything, and the bank would have to give the documents up." More talk of a like nature followed, and the Rover boys listened with keen interest to every word that was said. They recognized in Carson Davenport the man who had written to Jack's father hoping to get the latter interested in some fake oil companies, trusting that The Rover Company in New York City would be able to dispose of the worthless stocks to their customers--people who trusted them implicitly in all their financial transactions. While these negotiations were going on Jake Tate, Davenport's right-hand man, had learned that Lorimer Spell was dead and that he had made Dick Rover his sole heir. This was at a time when Tate and Davenport, as well as the other men, were trying to get possession of the Spell land, feeling sure that there was oil on it. They had been on the point of communicating with Dick Rover, thinking they might get the claim away from him, when he had surprised the whole crowd by his unexpected appearance in Columbina. "We've got to have quick action in this," declared Jake Tate. "The longer we delay the worse off we'll be." "Yes, but you've got to find out about those papers first," said one of the other men, lighting a cigar. "You leave me to do that," said Carson Davenport. "I'm sure I know exactly how to handle this man Rover." "He must be a pretty shrewd fellow, Davenport. Otherwise he wouldn't be holding such an important position in that Wall Street company," remarked Tate. "I've handled men like that before. You leave it to me." "But you don't want him to suspect anything is off color," said one of the other men. "I'm not so green, Jackson. I wasn't born yesterday." "Didn't you say you thought this Rover had a lot of money?" "Yes, the whole family has money. But, at the same time, that has nothing to do with it. I'll tell you what I propose to do," continued Carson Davenport earnestly. "I'll wait until I am sure that he----" This was as much as the Rover boys heard for the time being. Around the corner of the building from the main street had come three figures. They had been abreast, but now they approached on the cinder path in single file. As they came closer the lights from the restaurant fell on their faces, and to their intense surprise the four Rovers recognized Gabe Werner, Nappy Martell, and Slugger Brown. CHAPTER XXI