Bill Gregg, greatly excited, obeyed, and they hurried to the door of
the place. They were in time to see the taxicab lurch away from the
curb and go humming down the street, while the driver leaned out to
the side and looked back.

"He didn't see us," said Ronicky confidently.

"But what did he leave for?"

"He's gone to tell somebody, somewhere, that we're looking for
Caroline Smith. Come on!" He stepped out to the curb and stopped a
passing taxi. "Follow that machine and keep a block away from it," he
ordered.

"Bootlegger?" asked the taxi driver cheerily.

"I don't know, but just drift along behind him till he stops. Can you
do that?"

"Watch me!"

And, with Ronicky and Bill Gregg installed in his machine, he started
smoothly on the trail.

Straight down the cross street, under the roaring elevated tracks of
Second and Third Avenues, they passed, and on First Avenue they turned
and darted sharply south for a round dozen blocks, then went due east
and came, to a halt after a brief run.

"He's stopped in Beekman Place," said the driver, jerking open the