"Lazaro followed you here."
"Because I did not get my eye on Lazaro, as I did on Frank Merriwell. Don't worry, boy; he'll never find ye through me."
"If he came here, he'd not get away alive!" hissed Felipe.
"Make no mistake about him, me lad; he can fight with the best of them. Some friends of his have arrived in town, and I think they're taking up the most of his attention now. It's planning some sort of a trip they are."
"I can't stay here in this place much longer, Señor Hagan. I shall go mad!"
"Wait a little. I met Lazaro this morning on Broadway. Says he, 'If you see Felipe to-day, tell him I will come and cheer his heart with good news this night.' I'll drop round myself, so it's not lonesome you'll be."
"Well, I will wait a little longer," said Felipe.
Had it been possible for Hagan and Felipe to look into the next room just then they would have been greatly surprised by the singular conduct of old Spooner.
Between the two rooms there was a door, one panel of which was cracked. No longer bent and shaking, the man in the adjoining room was standing with one ear pressed close to the split panel. In spite of the fact that he had seemed quite deaf while talking with the Mexican lad, his appearance just now was that of one listening intently.