Fifty feet more, then Fairchild stepped from the doorway and took up the trail.
It was not a hard one to follow.

The night wind had brought more snow with it, to make a silent pad upon the sidewalks and to outline to Fairchild more easily the figure which slouched before him.

Gradually Robert dropped farther and farther in the rear; it gave him that much more protection, that much more surety in trailing his quarry to wherever he might be bound.
And it was a certainty that the destination was not home.

Squint Rodaine passed the street leading to his house without even looking up.
Two blocks more, and they reached the city limits.

But Squint kept on, and far in the rear, watching carefully every move, Fairchild followed his quarry's shadow.
A mile, and they were in the open country, crossing and recrossing the ice-dotted Clear Creek.