She quickened her step until she caught up
sufficiently with the man ahead to get a good glimpse of his side face.
Nervously she caught her breath. Without any doubt it was the gray Van
Dyke beard of old Otto Hoff.
Where was he going? What was he doing? She paused and looked behind her,
scanning the pavement on both sides of the street. She was half-hoping
that she would discover Carter or some of his men shadowing their
quarry, but her hope was vain. There was no one in the block at the
moment but herself and Mr. Hoff. If Fleck's men had been watching his
movements, the old man certainly seemed to have eluded them.
What should she do? Vividly there flashed into her mind her chief's
parting words.
"Watch everything," he had charged her. "Remember everything, report
everything. No detail is too unimportant. If you see one of the Hoffs
leave the house, don't merely report to me that the old man or the young
man left the house about three o'clock. That won't do at all. I want to
know the exact time. Was it six minutes after three or eleven minutes
after three? I must know what direction he went, if he was alone, how
long he was absent, where he went, what he did, to whom he talked. Here
in my office I take your reports, Carter's reports, a dozen other
reports, and study them together.
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