“Lookin’ for someone, suh?” the lad asked.
“Has Old Herm come out yet?”
“Ain’t seen him.”
Flash loitered where he could watch the rear door. Within a few minutes men from the night shift began to trickle out in twos and threes. Old Herm was one of the last. The watchman did not glance toward the loading dock. With a tin lunch pail swinging from his arm, he started off down the street.
Waiting until the old man was some distance away, Flash followed. It was the first time in his life that he had deliberately set himself the task of trailing an acquaintance, and he felt somewhat ridiculous.
Old Herm, unaware that he was being observed, walked several blocks, and entered a restaurant which specialized in twenty-five cent plate lunches. Flash crossed the street and spent nearly half an hour waiting for the watchman to come out again.
“This was a crazy idea anyhow,” he thought. “Herm may not go to his home for hours. And I’m due to show up for work at eight.”
Just at that moment the watchman came out of the café. Flash turned his back quickly, pretending to gaze into a store window. The old man did not see him.
Again Old Herm started off at a leisurely pace, walking toward the waterfront. Flash correctly guessed that he was heading for a cheap rooming house district located in that particular section of Brandale.
Presently the watchman climbed the steps of a dingy, brownstone front building, and entered. Flash carefully noted down the address. Then he walked back to the main section of the city, had breakfast, and reached the Ledger in time for work.