He wasted a dozen matches
in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. He
stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its
shelter. As he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped
into two men, wearing black caps! One of them grunted a curt
apology, as he stepped on.
"They are after me as usual," he thought. "Why not reverse
operations and find out where they belong?"
It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at
disadvantage with the odd number of the "move." Theirs was the
chance to observe, and an open attempt to follow them would be
ridiculous. Then, the footprints gave him an idea.
Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his
pace, turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew
that traffic would be light, and his footprints the best evidence
of his progress. The men unwittingly caught his plan, and
dropped almost out of sight. At the intersection of Madison
Avenue, they quickened their steps, and caught up with him again.
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