Part 24 (1/2)

They did well to keep a lookout, for suddenly the pursued taxi turned sharply to the right.

After it they went--not too close, but near enough to keep track of its manoeuvres.

”He's going up town now!” said Reggie Van Nostrand, when the car had diverged from the congested district to an open avenue which ran north and south. The machine turned and sped along merrily toward Harlem.

”We're willing,” said Burke. ”I want to track him to his headquarters.”

Block after block they followed the taxicab. Sometimes they nosed along, at Burke's suggestion, so far behind that it seemed as though a quick turn to a side street would lose their quarry. But it was evident that Baxter had a definite destination which he wished to reach in a hurry.

At last they saw the car stop, and then the youth ahead dismounted.

He was paying the chauffeur as they whizzed past, apparently giving him no heed.

But before they had gone another block Burke deemed it safe to stop.

He signaled Van Nostrand, who shut off the power of the miraculous car almost as easily as he had started it. Burke nearly shot over the winds.h.i.+eld with the momentum.

”Some car!” he grunted. ”You make it behave better than a horse, and I think it has more brains.”

Nothing in the world could have pleased the millionaire more than this.

He was an eager hunter himself by now.

”Say, supposing I take off my auto coat and run down that street and see where he goes to?”

”Good idea. I'll wait for you in the machine, if you're not afraid of the police department.”

”You bet I'm not. Here, I'll put on this felt hat under the seat.

They won't suspect me of being a detective, will they?”

”Hardly,” laughed Burke, as the young society man emerged from his chrysalis of furs and goggles, immaculately dressed in a frock coat.

He drew out an English soft hat and even a cane. ”You are ready for war or peace, aren't you?”

Van Nostrand hurried down the street and turned the corner, changing his pace to one of an easy and debonair grace befitting the possessor of several racing stables of horses and machines.

He saw his man a few hundred yards down the street. Van Nostrand watched him sharply, and saw him hesitate, look about, and then turn to the left. He ascended the steps of a dwelling.

By the time Van Nostrand had reached the house, to pa.s.s it with the barest sidelong glance, the pursued had entered and closed the door.

The millionaire saw, to his surprise, a white sign over the door, ”Swedish Employment Bureau.” The words were duplicated in Swedish.

”That's a bally queer sign!” muttered Reggie. ”And a still queerer place for a crook to go. I'll double around the block.”

As he turned the corner he saw an old-fas.h.i.+oned cab stop in front of the house. Two men a.s.sisted a woman to alight, unsteadily, and helped her up the steps.

”Well, she must be starving to death, and in need of employment,”

commented the rich young man. ”I think the policeman has brought me to a queer hole. I'll go tell him about it.”

The fas.h.i.+onable set who dwell on the east side of Central Park would have spilled their tea and c.o.c.ktails about this time had they seen the elegant Reggie Van Nostrand breaking all speed records as he dashed down the next street, with his cane in one hand and his hat in the other. He reached the car, breathless, but his tango athletics had stood him in good stead.

”What's up?” asked Burke, jumping from the seat.