Now, however, they were again at large, for he had recognised their leader that very day in the streets of San Francisco, and without a doubt he was engaged in his old nefarious business. My companion’s idea was to make a round of the city pool-rooms, where they received news of the races by wire, and, if he encountered the “wire-tapper,” force him by threats of exposure to divulge what horses he was going to back. “There might be some brisk fun,” he said. “Would you care to come and see it?” This appealed to me rather more than the theatre, and we accordingly started a careful tour of every pool-room in the city. They were dark, dusty places, swarming with a heterogeneous collection of humanity that ceaselessly shuffled and elbowed round boards bearing notices of the odds and winners, while a sleek gentleman in faultless attire stood on a rostrum at the end of the room and acted as “bookie.” The fruitlessness of my companion’s search was growing a trifle monotonous, when, on entering the fourth of these rooms, he seized my arm and nodded in the direction of a tall, stout man who had emerged from the crowd and stood counting over a large roll of bills. At last he seemed satisfied, slipped an elastic band round the roll, and strode out into the street. “Come on,” whispered my companion, excitedly; “that’s my man.” Not far from the door he tapped the stranger on the shoulder. The tall man faced about with surprising swiftness. “What do you want?” he snapped. “I know all about you,” said my companion, evenly. The collapse was sudden; the tall man’s jaw dropped perceptibly. “Come farther away and I’ll listen to you,” he said, with a furtive glance at the pool-room doors. Round a quiet corner my companion stated his business, and the wire-tapper brought out his roll of bills and fingered them feverishly. “This is blackmail,” he whined; “but how much do you want?” “It’s not blackmail, and I want none of your money,” protested my companion, indignantly. “All you have to do is to take _my_ money and place it on the right horse. Here are ten dollars for a start. I shall watch you go in and come out of the pool-room from this corner.” The wire-tapper had hardly left us when a little boy of thirteen or fourteen ran up to him with a note; then he disappeared through the swinging doors. Presently the wire-tapper came out and, without a word, counted thirty dollar bills into the other’s hand. “The price was only two to one,” he explained, apologetically. “Never mind,” said my companion; “better luck next time. Just place this thirty dollars for me, and that will do--for the present.”