Slinking deeper into the shadows, he waited. To his surprise he saw the truck back up at the door of the very building he was watching.
“Going to take something away,” was his mental comment.
This thought was at once abandoned when he noted that the light truck was already loaded to capacity.
Climbing down from the seat, the driver and his assistant walked to the door. Finding it locked, the driver beat a tattoo on it with his fist.
“What’s wanted?” demanded a voice as a head was thrust out of a window to the left of the door.
“Open up!” growled the driver. “Got a consignment of chemicals for you.”
“What you coming round this time of day for?”
“Came all the way from Calumet. Had a blow-out.”
“There’s no one here but me,” said the young man, reluctantly unbarring the door. “Boss is gone. Chief clerk’s gone. His assistant is gone. I’m only a sort of apprentice. Haven’t any authority.”
“Well, we can’t dump the goods in the street, can we? It’s going to rain.”