scrap heap, and I'm
going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke,
drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just
tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture
him."

The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van
Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat.

"I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and
the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon
of speed.

The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he
saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat.

Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines,
in order to give him the right of way.

They were now within a block of the other car.

"Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my
uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?"

"Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my
father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him
wonder."

Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as
the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the
coat.

"I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch
out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly
one, and will turn down a side street."

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
almo