At Sixty-ninth Street and Ninth Avenue, he stopped and lingered near the doorway of a store. He glanced cautiously in all directions. There were a number of people in sight. None of them seemed to arouse the clubman’s suspicions.
He turned deliberately and strolled along Sixty-ninth Street, keeping well away from the curb.
He stopped part way down the block. Across the street was the side entrance to a warehouse. It was a spot back from the sidewalk; yet it was somewhat conspicuous because of a light directly above it.
Paget did not seem to mind that fact. The sight of a man in a tuxedo entering a warehouse door on Sixty-ninth Street evidently did not impress him as being outlandish. He stepped across the street and pushed open the door. A dark passageway confronted him.
Paget entered, leaving the door open so that he could see his way.
Hardly had he disappeared before another man crossed the street at a spot much nearer Ninth Avenue.
The newcomer was walking briskly. He stopped suddenly after he had passed the entrance of a warehouse.
His purpose was evident. He was about to light a cigarette. The glare of the match revealed the features of Harry Vincent.
The young man made a hasty survey of his surroundings. No one was in sight. The street was virtually deserted. Harry stepped near the wall; then turned and began to walk slowly back toward Ninth Avenue.
As he reached the door of the warehouse, he moved to the side and stood beneath the light above the door.