the plan of the bradys certainly looked logical.

to make a race of it was the only safe way. so they acted at once.

they did not even spend the night at the broadway central hotel. instead they took a car for the grand central depot.

here they bought tickets for boston.

the plan was cleverly laid.

it was arranged to go on to boston by the night express. when they arrived in the hub city they would at once slip onto the next train back.

this would confuse the pursuers and place them on the defensive.

the shore line express took them out of new york.

the bradys kept a sharp outlook and were certain that none of the gang were on the train.

consequently they felt elated.

“on my word!” exclaimed harry. “i believe we have slipped them.”

“it looks like it,” agreed old king brady. “but i am not wholly sure. they have disappointed us several times.”

“that is true,” agreed harry. “yet i believe we will fool them this time.”

the bradys made themselves comfortable in the sleeping car.

just as they were about to retire, a short man with bushy whiskers and a tweed suit came into the car.

he occupied the section next to the detectives.

he claimed their attention at once, but neither remembered having seen him before.

he ignored them, however, and at once tumbled into his bunk. his snore could soon be heard above the rumble of the train.

in due season the bradys also retired.

they slept soundly until at about six o’clock the train rolled into boston.

the detectives had decided to stay in boston during the day and take the night train back to new york.

then they could assume the best disguise they had and perhaps shake their murderous pursuers.

they left the depot and made their way to a respectable boston hostelry.

the weather was typical of new england at the time of year and was most bitterly cold.

when the detectives registered at the parker house, the fellow-passenger in the tweed suit also registered.

he was assigned to a room, as were the detectives. young king brady noted the coincidence, but thought nothing of it.

but once in the room, a sudden thought came to harry.

he instantly exclaimed:

“confound it! you and i are getting daft, partner.”

“eh?” exclaimed old king brady. “what are you driving at?”

“we are blind fools! far from eluding the gang, we are only getting into their way.”

“what do you mean?”

“do you remember the man who slept in the berth next us?”

“on the train?”

“yes.”

“short man with tweed suit?”

“the very one!”

“yes. what of it?”

“well, we are blind. that fellow is martin van in disguise!”

old king brady gasped.

“harry!” he ejaculated. “what do you mean?”

“it is true! i have placed him now. i knew he seemed familiar.”

“nonsense! i can’t see any connection or any similarity.”

“you can’t?”

“no.”

“well, i couldn’t at first. but after we registered, i went down into the wash-room. he was there as well!”

“ah!”

“i passed by him and chancing to glance into a side mirror i had profile view of him. he was indulging in the st. vitus dance and his features were all contorted.”

old king brady was silent.

he knew that van had the st. vitus dance. the coincidence was certainly suspicious.

he was thoughtful.

“i declare!” he finally exclaimed. “perhaps you are right, harry. those whiskers did not look really natural.”

“no, nor are they. i tell you that fellow is van!”

old king brady strode up and down the room for some time.

“well,” he said, finally, “what ought we to do?”

“i see only one plan.”

“what?”

“arrest him!”

“of course! we could have done it at the hotel desk.”

“but we did not know him.”

“that is it.”

“he is very likely in his room just now. let us work the surprise on him. fate seems to have played this into our hands.”

the bradys were elated.

their luck in having probed the fellow’s disguise seemed likely to stand them in good stead.

but they knew better than to act too openly.

“harry,” said old king brady, “we must proceed with due caution. you can slip out now and get an officer.”

“yes.”

“i will go down and look on the register and get the number of his room.”

“very well.”

14

“then i will meet you at the tremont street door. do you see?”

“yes.”

“very good. the officer can go right up to his room. i will go up one corridor and you the other. then we have him trapped.”

“splendid!”

the detectives had laid their plan well. as a matter of fact, their surmises were correct.

martin van was in his room.

he did not dream, of course, that the bradys had penetrated his disguise.

it was his purpose to follow them like a lynx and at a favorable moment strike one or both down with his own hand.

the officer secured by harry carried out his part of the programme.

he proceeded to the door of van’s room and rapped.

at first there was no answer.

then a movement in the room was heard and a voice said:

“who is it?”

“a friend on business!”

“what is the name?”

“open the door and you will see!”

silence ensued and the officer rapped again.

“wait a moment!” said the occupant of the room. that was the last answer. the officer suddenly put his shoulder to the door and forced it in.

the bradys came rushing up the corridor expecting trouble.

but there was none.

the reason was evident.

the room was empty.

a window opening upon a fire-escape was open. it was by means of this that van had escaped.

“quick!” cried harry. “we must cut him off below.”

downstairs dashed the detectives. as they reached the sidewalk they saw a man in a big overcoat turn the corner below into washington street.

it was van.

the detectives rushed after him. in the crowd, however, they lost track of their man.

much chagrined, however, the detectives would not give up.

they went on at random.

suddenly leaving haymarket square they turned into portland street.

this is the street of livery stables. from the door of one of these stables they saw a cutter sleigh drawn by a spirited horse emerge.

one man sat in the sleigh.

“great scott!” exclaimed harry. “is not that van?”

the same big overcoat and hat betokened that it was the crook. he looked back once and saw the bradys.

his whiskers had been sacrificed.

it was easy to recognize him.

his face lit up with evil exultation and he made a contemptuous gesture with his hand.

“hold!” shouted old king brady at the top of his lungs. “stop or i will fire!”

the old detective’s revolver came out then.

but it was too late.

the cutter turned a corner and van was out of sight.

the bradys looked about for a means of pursuit.

“the stable!” cried harry. “get another team at once!”

into the stable the bradys rushed.

the proprietor stared at them.

“quick!” cried old king brady. “give us the best horse you’ve got in your stable. we will pay for him.”

“who are you?” asked the stableman, suspiciously.

“we are secret service detectives.”

“why, i just let a team to a detective to go to lexington.”

“what!” cried old king brady. “did you say to lexington?”

“yes.”

“well, he fooled you. he is a noted crook and we are after him.”

“look here, i can’t let my teams this way.”

“enough of that!” cried old king brady, thrusting a roll of greenbacks in the man’s face. “your best horse. i’ll buy him. here’s his value as security!”

“the other fellow left a deposit, too. do you mean it?”

“yes, here is five hundred. if i don’t bring the team back you are paid.”

this was enough.

the stable keeper quickly brought out a flea-bitten gray horse. he was attached to a light sleigh.

“do you know the lexington road?” he asked.

“by scallay square and brighton street to cambridge and arlington?” said old king brady.

“yes.”

“i’ll find it. thank you!”

“that’s the best road horse in boston. you’ll catch your man before he gets there.”

“that’s what we want!” cried old king brady.

then away in pursuit went the two detectives.

“if we can catch van,” said old king brady, “we shall be all right. we will have only two bloodhounds on our trail.”

highly elated, the detectives drove on. it was slow work getting out of the crowded streets. but finally they crossed the cambridge bridge and were out on a clear highway.

then the horse was given a free head.