“One more link,” Ken murmured. “Come on.”
The package held tightly under the man’s arm appeared to be the same one Pete had delivered a few minutes before.
The boys moved out after him as he walked on into the night.
CHAPTER X
NOTHING TO SNEEZE AT
The man in the pea jacket led them southward along South Street. On their right stood the long row of buildings occupied by wholesale sea-food merchants—identifiable now even in the darkness by an almost overpowering smell of fish. Across the street, on their left, were the great sheds and docks that extended out over the East River itself. Sometimes, beyond them, the black bow of a freighter could be seen looming up against the gray-black sky.
They passed the huge Fulton Fish Market, where only a few lights twinkled now in the vast empty spaces that would swarm with activity when the early-morning deliveries began.
The man ahead of them walked at a steady pace, hands deep in his pockets, the collar of his pea jacket turned up high around his ears. He seemed in no hurry to get inside out of the cold.
“Wow!” Ken said softly, as a sudden bitter gust of wind straight off the icy river almost drove them back against the building they were passing. “If this turns out to be a wild-goose chase—if he’s just a sailor on the way back to his ship with a couple of cartons of cigarettes—”