approached and passed Mr. Wynne without so much as a glance at him,
and went on toward his chief.

"Drop in behind here," Mr. Birnes remarked crisply to Malone, without
looking around. "I'll walk on ahead and turn east in Thirty-fourth
Street to nail him if he swings a car. Claflin's got him going
west."

Mr. Wynne was perhaps some twenty feet from the corner of Thirty-fourth
Street and Fifth Avenue when Mr. Birnes passed him. His glance
lingered on the broad back of the chief reflectively as he swung by and
turned into the cross street, after a quick, business-like glance at an
approaching car. Then Mr. Wynne smiled. He paused on the edge of the
curb long enough for an automobile to pass, then went on across
Thirty-fourth Street to the uptown side and, turning flatly, looked
Mr. Birnes over pensively, after which he leaned up against an
electric-light pole and scribbled something on an envelope.

A closed cab came wriggling and squirming up Fifth Avenue. As it
reached the middle of Thirty-fourth Street Mr. Wynne raised his hand,
and the cab drew up beside him. He said something to the driver,
opened the door and stepped in. Mr. Birnes smiled confidently. So
that was it, eh? He, too, crossed Thirty-fourth Street and lifted
his hand. The cab which had been drifting along behind him
immediately came up.

"Now, Jimmy, get on the job," instructed Mr. Birnes, as he stepped
in. "Keep that chap in sight and when he stops you stop."

Mr. Wynne's cab jogged along comfortably up the avenue, twisting and