“Watching me?”
“Yes, and if I’m not mistaken, he follows you wherever you go.”
“What kind of a looking man?”
As well as he could, Delbier described the individual. But Leo was not thinking of Hank Griswold—indeed, he hardly knew the man—and he shook his head.
“You must imagine it, Delbier.”
“I guess not. Better be on your guard.”
“All right,” and Leo laughed.
When in the country Leo had grown tired of the quietness, but now when every day brought fresh bustle and confusion he was glad enough to escape the crowd and go for a quiet walk.
His course took him along a country road which presently followed the bank of a mountain stream.
It was a clear stream and full of fish, and Leo much regretted not having brought along a line and hook.