Tom Halstead laid down the water pitcher and passed out of the room last of all.
"I reckon you'd better go into the other room first, Joe, and let me bring up the rear," called Tom, grimly. "Then we can watch, from both ends of the line, for any new tricks."
Dick Davis produced a key, admitting all hands to the adjoining room.
"Now, be seated," proposed Davis, in his most hospitable tone. The club members found chairs.
"Have you seen Mr. Baldwin?" inquired Captain Tom.
"No; but we've sent him word," Ab replied. "Mr. Baldwin has offices in the Chronicle Building."
"Is that near?" queried Halstead.
"Only a few hawser lengths from here, on the other side of Market Street," put in Jed Prentiss. "Come here to the window. There's the Chronicle Building over yonder."
"Mr. Baldwin has a telephone, of course?" suggested Captain Tom.
"Yes; 9378 Market."