"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.