I chinned myself on the board fence, saw a wire-haired terrier alone in the yard, and ran down the alley while he was charging my part of the fence.
I put my gun back into my pocket before I left the alley for the street.
A small touring car was parked at the curb in front of a cigar store some fifteen feet from the alley. A policeman was talking to a slim dark-faced man in the cigar store doorway.
“The big fellow that come out of the alley a minute ago,” I said. “Which way did he go?”
The policeman looked dumb. The slim man nodded his head down the street, said, “Down that way,” and went on with his conversation.
I said, “Thanks,” and went on down to the corner. There was a taxi phone there and two idle taxis. A block and a half below, a street car was going away.
“Did the big fellow who came down here a minute ago take a taxi or the street car?” I asked the two taxi chauffeurs who were leaning against one of the taxis.
The rattier looking one said:
“He didn’t take a taxi.”
I said:
“I’ll take one. Catch that street car for me.”
The street car was three blocks away before we got going. The street wasn’t clear enough for me to see who got on and off it. We caught it when it stopped at Market Street.
“Follow along,” I told the driver as I jumped out.