The boys dashed for another door in the same car. Ken’s fingers grabbed for the rubber edge of the panel in an effort to prevent it from closing. But he was too late. It slid shut with a small final thud. The train lurched into motion.
One by one the cars went past, at a swiftly increasing speed. And then the train disappeared entirely, except for the winking red light on the last car, growing smaller and smaller in the dark tunnel of the subway.
Ken let himself sag wearily against a pillar. “We could start a school,” he said. “The Allen-Holt School of How Not to Shadow a Suspect.”
CHAPTER IX
ONE MORE LINK
“We’re not licked yet. Come on.” Sandy took hold of Ken’s arm with sudden vigor.
“Come where?” Ken asked.
“Just follow me. It’s my turn to have a hunch. But hurry!”
Sandy dragged him quickly to the top of the stairway, hesitated there a moment trying to orient himself in the confused underground labyrinth beneath Grand Central Station, and then demanded, “Which way is Lexington Avenue?”