"Where?" and now Roger was all attention.
"Going into the reading-room with another man."
"Humph! Say, let us find out if he is really here."
"He isn't staying here, I know that."
"How do you know?"
"I asked the clerk."
While speaking the two youths had walked away from the ballroom of the hotel. Now they found themselves at the entrance to a long, narrow apartment that was used as a writing and smoking room for men. Half a dozen persons were present, several writing letters and the others talking in low tones and smoking.
In an alcove two men had just seated themselves, one an elderly person who seemed somewhat feeble, and the other a tall, sharp-faced individual who eyed his companion in a shrewd, speculative manner.
"That's Job Haskers, sure enough," murmured Roger, as Dave pointed to the sharp-faced man. "Wonder what he is doing here?"
"Well, he has a right to be here, if he wishes," returned Dave.