Traffic In Souls Part 24

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 windshield 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-fashioned 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 fashionable 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.

"Why, that's a Swedish employment agency, and I saw two men lead a woman up the steps from a cab just now. What shall we do?"

"You run your machine to the nearest drug store and find out where the nearest police station is. Then get a few cops in your machine, and come to that house, for you'll find me there," ordered Burke. "How far down the block?"

"Nearly to the next corner," answered Reggie, who leaped into his racing seat and started away like the wind.

Burke hurried down, following the path of the other, until he came to the house. He looked at the sign, and then glanced about him. He saw an automobile approaching, and intuitively stepped around the steps of the house next door, into the bas.e.m.e.nt entry.

He had hardly concealed himself when the machine stopped in front of the other dwelling.

A big Swede, still carrying his emigrant bundle, descended from the machine, and called out cheerily in his native language to the occupants within the vehicle. Burke, peeping cautiously, saw two buxom Swedish la.s.sies, still in their national costumes, step down to the street. The machine turned and pa.s.sed on down the street.

Burke saw the man point out the sign of the employment agency, and the girls chattered gaily, cheered up with hopes of work, as he led them up the steps.

The door closed behind them.

Burke quietly walked around the front of the house and up the steps after them. He had made no noise as he ascended, and as he stood by the wall of the vestibule he fancied he detected a bitter cry, m.u.f.fled to an extent by the heavy walls.

He examined the sign, and saw that it was suspended by a small wire loop from a nail in the door jamb.

Bobbie reached upward, took the sign off its hook, and turned it about.

"Well, just as I thought!" he exclaimed.

On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A."

"They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he quietly turned the k.n.o.b. It opened readily.

Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop!

Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat.

A cynical smile played about Burke's pursed lips as he held the sign up toward the old reprobate.

"Can I get a job here? Is there any work for me to do in this employment agency?" he drawled quietly.

Pop acted upon the instinct which was the result of many years'

dealings with minions of the law. He had been a contributor to the "cause" back in the days of Boss Tweed. He temporarily forgot that times had changed.

"That's all right, pal," he said, with a sickly smile, "just a little token for the wife and kids."

He handed out a roll of bills which he pressed against Bobbie's hands.

The policeman looked at him with a curious squint.

"So, you think that will fix me, do you?"

"Well, if you're a little hard up, old fellow, you know I'm a good fellow...."

Up the stairs there was a scuffle.