Burns snorted and set out after the fast-disappearing figure in the distance.
He had some difficulty in shortening the distance between Baird and himself. Baird swung along at a fast clip, and once or twice Burns had to break into a run or he’d have lost him.
Baird’s quick, suspicious ears heard the pat er of feet behind him, but he didn’t look around. He kept on, not sure yet if he was being tailed. Was it the police? he wondered. He turned down a side street, swearing softly under his breath. He had cut it fine. The train was due out at two, and he had yet to reach the depot and get his ticket. But he had to be sure no one was following him.
When he reached a dark patch of the road, he glanced back. A short, fat man was walking rapidly after him, keeping in the shadows. He didn’t look like a cop, and he puzzled Baird.
Baird kept on until he reached an alley that cut through to the railroad depot. He had ten minutes before the train left. Once in the darkness of the alley, he stopped and set down his grip and waited.
But Burns was too experienced to walk into that kind of trap. As soon as he could no longer hear Baird’s footfal s, he guessed Baird had spot ed him and was waiting for him in the al ey.
He walked slowly past the mouth of the alley, so Baird could see him, and kept on down the street until he was out of ear-shot, then he doubled back on tiptoe until he reached the mouth of the alley again.
He stood just out of sight, listening.
Although he had moved silently, Baird had heard him. Baird guessed this fat punk wouldn’t venture into the alley so long as he was uncertain Baird was still there.
Time was getting on. Baird couldn’t afford to hang about any longer, nor could he afford to let anyone interested in him know he was catching a train.