“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.