The blindman gave Dan a shove, following a pace behind. At sound of his tapping cane, the warehouseman whirled around.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said in relief. “I’m a mite jumpy tonight. Guarding a valuable cargo. She’s due to be picked up in another hour. It sure will be a load off my mind.”
“Hank, I got a sliver in my hand a minute ago,” the blindman said in a half-whine intended to arouse sympathy. “Will you help me get it out?”
“Can’t see a thing out here.”
“Come inside where there’s a good light.”
The warehouseman hesitated. “I shouldn’t leave the dock—”
“Oh, it will only take a minute. You can watch the canvas from the doorway. Dan here can help you keep an eye on it.”
“My eyesight isn’t very good at night,” Dan said significantly.
The blindman’s arm pressed hard into his flesh.
“Lead me inside, Dan,” the man ordered. “That’s a good boy. You’re a real help to a poor soul without any eyes.”