To get the hang of the entrances and exits, he went round to the back of the building, which abutted on an alley, where he found a rear door. But as the alley, after a semi-circular swing, came back to the main street, the baron found a spot where he could conveniently observe it, while at the same time watching the front entrances, and particularly that door marked “Private,” through which Jackson Dane had passed.
But it was a long and tiresome wait.
The baron, not caring to produce the long-stemmed pipe dear to his German heart, though he had it with him, bought a cheap clay article at a tobacco store on the corner; which he enjoyed, as he squatted silently in a convenient doorway.
Now and then he walked about, mingling with the people who came and went. But ever his eyes were on the doors, even when he seemed to be looking in other directions; not a man came out that the baron did not see and size up. Thus he remained until night came; when for his supper he bought a sandwich on the corner.
Throughout the evening performance in the Casino, the baron stuck to his post outside, though giving attention now and then to the singing, which could be heard from the street.
When the crowd came away at last, the baron was on his feet, moving about, watching everything.
He did not see Jackson Dane come out.
“I tond’t t’ink he has passed me,” thought the baron, when the last of the concert goers had departed. “So-o, uff he vos in dhere vhen I fairst sit me down, he iss in dhere yidt. I vill vaidt a vhiles.”
He waited, with German patience, until two o’clock in the morning, before he was rewarded.
At that time he seemed to be a drunken miner asleep in the doorway he had chosen, his body slouched against the door, his big hat over his eyes, in such a way that he could see under its broad brim.