The boys did not care to enter a conspicuous restaurant, and so they chose an obscure eating house on a side street.
At first glance the place seemed without customers as they entered, and the boys were glad to have the room to themselves, but as soon as they were seated two men came in and took seats at a table not far away from their own.

The men were dusky fellows, with long hair and sharp black eyes.

They ordered sparingly, as if they cared little for food, and, after glancing furtively around the room, spent their time in whispered conversation.
Fremont thought he saw something familiar in one of the men, and kept his eyes on his face until the coarse features, the sullen grin, became associated in his mind with the Cameron building in New York.

It did not seem possible that this could be true, yet there was a face he had seen in the corridors of the great building, and every moment the identification was becoming more definite.
"Ever see that man before ?" he asked of Frank, nudging the boy and pointing with his fork, held so low down that it could not be seen by the others.
"I'm sure I have," was the reply.

"He was at the hotel when I went upstairs to your room," Frank went on.