“That goes without saying.”

“Do you know a man by the name of Lasar—­ Bob Lasar, Mr. Marquand?”

Mr. Marquand started, eyeing both lads questioningly.

“Yes; he is associated with me in a business venture.”

“Told you so,” interjected Stacy.

“What of him?”

Tad wished he was well out of it all.  To be obliged to tell all he knew of Bob Lasar, and to the latter’s partner, was rather a troublesome undertaking.

Plucking up courage, Tad briefly related all that he and his companion had overheard on the train as they were approaching Bluewater to all of which their host listened with grave attention and increasing interest.

“The incident probably would not have come back to me again but for certain things that happened to-day,” Tad continued.

“Would either of you know Lasar were you to see him again, do you think?”

“My friend Chunky Brown saw him here to-day.”

“Saw him get out of the stage in front of this very hotel,” nodded Stacy.

“You are right.  He is here.  Mr. Lasar had stopped off at a near-by town on a personal matter.  Can you describe the man whom you saw with him on the train?”

“As I remember him, he was slightly taller than Mr. Lasar, with red hair and a moustache of the same shade.”

“Yes, that’s Joe Comstock.  No doubt about that,” nodded Mr. Marquand.  “You didn’t hear them say what their plan was, then?”

“Not definitely.  Only that they intended to rid themselves of you after having obtained possession of your plans for finding the treasure, or at least learning where it is hidden.”

“Hm-m-m!”

Mr. Marquand sat thoughtfully silent for several minutes, the lines of his face growing tense and hard.  The boys could see that he was exerting, a strong effort to control himself.

“You—­ you haven’t told them your plans?” questioned Tad, in a subdued voice.

“No.  I was going to do so to-night, if Comstock had arrived.  He may get in yet.”

“But you won’t do so now—­ will you?”

“No!  I thank you, boys,” exclaimed their host, extending an impulsive hand to each at the same time.

“Then—­ then our information is going to be of some use to you?”

“More than you can have any idea of.  You have done me a greater service than you know.  I thank you—­ thank you from the bottom of my heart!  Perhaps, ere long I may be able to show my appreciation in a more substantial manner.”

Marquand ceased speaking abruptly and began pacing back and forth, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets.  He was a man of slight build, but strong and wiry.  He was well past middle age, erect and forceful.  Looking at him, Tad found himself wondering how such a man could have gotten into the clutches of two such rascals as Bob Lasar and Joe Comstock.  Tad hoped their host would offer some explanation, while Chunky was nearly bursting with curiosity.  Mr. Marquand appeared to have forgotten their presence entirely.