e land in that basement. They may go there again,
tonight."

They walked rapidly toward the alley-way where Murphy had recognized
"Gink" Cummings when he met the man they suspected was Gibson. Spring
street was beginning to become deserted for the night. Little groups of
men and women from the theaters waited at the corners for street cars. A
peanut and candy peddler pushed his cart wearily along the street, close
to the curb, plodding his way home. The proprietor of an open front
fruit stand struggled with the folding iron fence pulled across the
entrance to his store for protection of his wares until morning.

They turned into the alley-way in single file, Murphy leading, Brennan
next and John acting as a voluntary rear guard. The narrow alley, like
the bottom of a canyon with walls of brick, was darker than the streets.
In the middle of the block Murphy seemed to disappear into the earth.
Then Brennan dropped from sight. John was startled momentarily until he
found that they had descended a steep stairway, covered with trash and
old papers. Murphy unlocked the padlock and the door creaked inward on
rusty hinges. They sidled through it, fearful that the squeaking might
betray them.

Inside it was pitch dark. John was unable to see the faces of Brennan
and Murphy, although their elbows touched.

"I'll wait here and keep a lookout," said Murphy. "Here's a torch and
go easy with it." He handed Brennan an electric pocket torch.

"Murphy, you're a wonder, see?" said Brennan as he flashed on the light,
pointing it to his feet as he moved slowly forward.

A pungent odor of stale beer from empty kegs piled against the walls
mingled with that damp smell peculiar to underground places. Cobwebs
tickled their faces as they walked through the seldom used path between
the kegs and packing boxes. The small arc of light from the electric
torch danced ahead of them as John and Brennan inspected their
surroundings. At the end of the basement for a length of twenty-five
yards back from the wall under the street, they found a space cleared of
the boxes and kegs. On one side was a broad, steep stairway leading up
to a trapdoor in the floor above.

They could hear the voices of men in the room over their heads and a
scuffling of feet that told them the soft drink and lunch establishment,
into which the old saloon had been converted, had not been closed down
for the night. Their inspection completed, they returned to Murphy,
standin