It was a rather roomy place, with a low, dingy ceiling, and a bar at one side; but the bar now held stacks of oysters piled on cakes of ice. Swinging doors led to the kitchen. Little round tables filled the floor space. About these sat, lounging, a considerable number of longshoremen and other rough-visaged frequenters of the water-front. Practically all of them were smoking pipes, and the air was so dense with tobacco smoke that Willie almost choked. The room was hazy with it, and every new current of air drew the smoke out in thin horizontal clouds. The odor of the place was indescribable. With the smell of the tobacco was mingled the sickening odor of grease, from the kitchen, and the smell of the steaming dishes on various tables; for some of the men in the place were eating. But most of those present sat smoking and sipping “coffee” from the cups before them. But the coffee was cold and strangely suggestive, in its odor, of old rye. The Secret Service man led the way to a little table in a corner, where they would be partly hidden from observation. As they crossed the floor, Willie felt as though a hundred eyes were fairly boring through him. Instantly he became self-conscious and embarrassed. But he kept his eyes on the back of his companion, and noticing the appearance of utter unconcern with which Sheridan walked along, Willie tried to imitate him, and to appear as though unconscious that there was anybody in the room except himself and his companion. More and more he admired the big Secret Service man. Nothing seemed to fluster him or excite him. Apparently Sheridan had walked through the room without glancing to right or left; and yet Willie felt very certain his companion could pass an examination on the men in that room and describe every one of them perfectly. He hoped the time would come when he would be able to do the same thing. Willie was a great deal nearer being able to do that than he understood. Sheridan’s first question after they were seated at their table showed that. “Did you notice that fellow by the door, as we came in?” he asked very quietly. “Which one—the man with the blue cap or the one with the red necktie? There was a man on each side of the door.” Willie could not see either man as he spoke. He had remembered how they were dressed. Sheridan was quick to appreciate this fact. “You’ve got an eye like a hawk’s,” he commented. “I meant the fellow with the red necktie. Get a good look at him when you go out. He’s one of the toughest nuts on the water-front. And he’s about the only man that wears a necktie, too. That’s a bug of his—red neckties. Whenever there’s any crooked work along the water-front, you can be sure he’s got a hand in it.” “What’s his name?” asked Willie. “They call him ‘Red’ Anderson. I don’t know what his real name is.”