On the way downtown the detective made a close study of the man. He did not remember that he had ever seen him before. Darwin had the appearance of a man in prosperous circumstances. That he had been in the habit of associating with sporting men was quite evident from certain phrases which Carter had heard him utter. At Houston Street Darwin jumped off the car. CHAPTER VII. EAVESDROPPING. Carter did not act hastily. He waited until Darwin had turned the corner before he alighted from the car. Then he started after his quarry, whom he soon caught sight of hurrying along on the south side of Houston Street. The detective kept on the north side of the street. As he walked along, he made a few changes in his disguise, so that if he and Darwin were brought face to face again the man would not recognize him as the same person who had stood on the platform of the car with him. Darwin entered the crooks’ resort. Carter followed him inside. A number of men were leaning up against the bar. Lem Samson, a tall, burly, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, with an ugly scar over his left temple, was serving out the drinks. Darwin stepped up to the bar and spoke to Samson. Carter got near them, and heard what was said. “Have you seen Brockey?” Darwin asked. “He hasn’t been in this evening,” Samson replied. “Did you expect to meet him to-night?” “I did.” “Go into the back room and wait.” “Is any one in there?” “No.” Carter sat down in a chair near the door of that room, and feigned intoxication. No one paid any attention to him. The minutes passed. Then the door of the room opened, and a man entered. He was dressed in black. His coat was tightly buttoned up, so as nearly to hide the white handkerchief that encompassed his scrawny throat. His hair--and it was not very luxuriant--was of a foxy color, and combed straight down, giving the observer the idea that it had been operated on by the prison barber. Pitted pockmarks covered his colorless, lean face. At a glance the detective recognized Brockey Gann. The rascal cast his restless eyes around the room, as if he were in fear of some danger, and, thus shuffling up to the bar, he asked of Samson, in a hoarse tone of voice: “Have you seen him?” “He’s waiting inside,” Samson replied, pointing toward the back room with his thumb. Brockey, as he passed Carter, looked at him. The detective’s head was bending forward, and, apparently, he was asleep. “Jaggy,” Brockey muttered as he passed into the room. “I’m glad you have come at last, Brockey,” the detective heard Darwin exclaim. “Sit down. Help yourself to the rosy.” “Thank you,” Brockey replied, and he seated himself at the table, pouring out a glassful of liquor and swallowing it at a gulp. Darwin handed him a cigar, which he lighted and proceeded to smoke. “That’s the stuff!” he ejaculated. “What did you discover this afternoon?” Darwin asked, after a pause. “Nothing much.” “Tell me what you did learn.”