The two men sat in conversation. A bell boy knocked at the door. He was a big fellow, large for his youthful appearance. But his face was dull and expressionless.
He brought a message for Mr. Waltham, the guest who occupied the room. The tall, thin man read it and dismissed the bell boy with the words, “No reply.”
The hotel attendant did not go downstairs after the door had closed. Instead, he used a key to unlock the door of the adjoining room. There was a door that led to 418, and the bell boy listened there.
The sound of voices on the other side was almost inaudible. The listener must have possessed ears of exceptional keenness to hear anything.
Evidently, his eavesdropping was not entirely successful. He drew a small instrument from the pocket of his coat and placed it over one ear. He pressed the instrument carefully against the keyhole as he knelt on the floor. He remained in that position.
His face betrayed no interest; but it was evident that he must be hearing everything that was said.
* * *
The men in 418 spoke in low voices, as though they were accustomed to talk in that manner. This was not surprising. Both of them were Federal agents, who had participated in the raid on Doc Birch’s place, the night before.
“We’ve got all there is to get, Jim,” said the man named Waltham. “There’s no doubt about it.”
“Guess you’re right,” came the reply. “I wish we had landed some of the goods. It would have been better.”