And he was as
patient as he was quick, and would wait for hours if needful, with his
eye on a door, until his man reissued into the street again. And if
the one he shadowed looked behind him to see if he was followed, or
dodged up and down different streets, as if he were trying to throw
off pursuit, or despatched a note or telegram, or stopped to speak to
a policeman or any special officer, as a detective might, who thought
he had his men safely in hand, off Snipes would go on a run, to where
Alf Wolfe was waiting, and tell what he had seen.
Then Wolfe would give him a quarter or more, and the trailer would go
back to his post opposite Case's tenement, and wait for another victim
to issue forth, and for the signal from No. 8 to follow him. It was
not much fun, and "customers," as Mr. Wolfe always called them, had
been scarce, and Mr. Wolfe, in consequence, had been cross and nasty
in his temper, and had batted Snipe out of the way on more than one
occasion. So the trailer was feeling blue and disconsolate, and
wondered how it was that "Naseby" Raegen, "Rags" Raegen's younger
brother, had had the luck to get a two weeks' visit to the country
with the Fresh Air Fund children, while he had not.
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