“Hello, Clyde,” replied Vincent, in the same low tone. “I think you’re in time. I know what he looks like. When he comes out, I’ll tag him. You follow me. Be ready to take up the trail if I think he suspects me.”
“Right.”
A man appeared beyond the revolving door of the apartment house. He emerged to the street and looked slowly in both directions.
It was Rodney Paget. The man was swinging a light cane and smoking his inevitable cigarette. He sauntered along the street aimlessly. Harry followed.
PAGET apparently was in no hurry. He walked several blocks; then turned toward Broadway. He stopped once or twice in front of different restaurants, and Harry loitered well behind.
At last one eating house caught Paget’s fancy. He entered and went to a table at the end of the room.
Harry lingered outside until Burke arrived.
“We can go in without being noticed,” whispered Harry. “Paget is not facing the door. We can take a table near the front.”
The two men entered the small restaurant and ordered dinner. Facing each other by the front window, they could both observe Paget’s back while the clubman was dining. Paget appeared to be in no hurry with his meal.
“P-s-st,” signaled Harry.