With no one to appear against him young Allerton Banks was discharged as free of guilt.  
Great excitement was created when it was known that a warrant was out for Napoleon Blood.
 
And the interest was at fever heat when it was learned that he had skipped for parts unknown.
 
The Bradys were deeply chagrined that their birds had slipped them.
 
They had not dreamed that they would skip so soon.
 
They regretted not having made the arrests earlier.
 
However, they were by no means discouraged or defeated.
 
They knew that Blood had money and would not be easily overtaken. But the Tough Trio could not get away so easily.
 
But events proved that this was not at all the purpose of the three toughs.
 
The Bradys were surprised to receive the following unique message.
 
It came by mail, being post-marked at Station E, and was written in a coarse hand as follows:
 
“Mr. Braddy: You hev opened the action ag’in’ us and we are on the deefensive. Pretty soon it will be the other way an’ we’ll be on the offensive. Mark it now, we’re goin’ to do you up. No man can stand ag’in’ the trio and you’ll be kept busy running a race fer life.
 
“You can’t take no step we don’t kno’ about and we’ll be hot on your heels all the while. You can’t sleep nites fer the knife will be at yure windpipe. You can’t leave the city or a bullet will drop ye. We’re watchin’ every move of yours and you can’t fool us. There’s no escape unless you make a race for it.
Yures fer revenge,
“The Trio.”
 
The Bradys read this message several times with curious emotions.
 
Then Harry said:
 
“On my word, partner, this is no joke. It means something.”
 
“I believe you, Harry,” agreed Old King Brady. “But our move is to keep ahead of them.”
 
“They mean to kill us!”
 
“That is so.”
 
“Then we have certainly got to capture or kill them.”
 
“For self-preservation if nothing else.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“It is literally a race for life. We must win.”
 
“We must.”
 
The detectives decided to give up their quest for Blood.
 
They knew that a false step now meant their lives.
 
It is no light thing to ponder upon that three elusive deadly thugs are seeking one’s life and waking or sleeping there is never a safe moment.
 
The Bradys were constrained to do a heap of thinking.
 
The problem before them was the worst they had ever undertaken.
 
Every step must be guarded, every move carefully weighed.
 
They knew that it was true that they were under the constant surveillance of the trio.
 
How to turn the tables and place the other gang under the shadow was the question.
 
They considered the matter of disguise.
 
Disguises are all right and in many cases a valuable aid to a detective.
 
But they are not infallible.
 
In a passing crowd or the glare of gaslight they will prove sometimes very effective.
 
But not always are they effective. The cunning crook penetrates the cleverest disguise with ease.
 
Every person has certain physical peculiarities which no disguise on earth can absolutely conceal.
 
The Bradys knew that they could not depend wholly upon disguise.
 
The detectives decided finally that their only way to baffle their murderous foes was to make a literal race of it.
 
They knew that the three crooks would make hot pursuit.
 
By keeping always just ahead of the trio they could be sure of safety and perhaps find a way of doubling and turning the tables on the foe.
 
“We will lead them a chase across the continent!” cried Old King Brady. “If they can catch us they may have our scalps. In the meantime we will try every kind of a decoy for them.”
 
The Bradys left their lodgings.
 
They had barely struck the street when Harry exclaimed:
 
“We are shadowed!”
 
“Eh?” exclaimed the old detective.
 
“I tell you it is so!”
 
“How do you know that?”
 
“I saw one of the gang slip around that corner.”
 
12
“If that is so we ought to be able to decoy him. Come on!”
 
The two detectives carelessly strolled down the street.
 
It was a crowded thoroughfare and they knew that no attempt would be made upon their lives here.
 
But presently they slipped into a dark alley.
 
Here they crouched behind some barrels. Each held a revolver in his hand.
 
If their foes came into the alley, the trap was ready and would be sprung.
 
The detectives watched very closely. Twice they saw their birds at a corner far down the street.
 
But they would not venture to accept the decoy.
 
Old King Brady was disgruntled.
 
“Confound them! They are too sharp,” he said. “What shall we do?”
 
“Give it up,” said Harry, laconically.
 
“It looks like it. Well, we would be foolish to go their way. Let us give them the slip through this alley.”
 
“Very well.”
 
So the detectives slipped away and into another street. Soon they were on Broadway.
 
“Aha!” said Old King Brady, triumphantly. “That’s the way to slip them. I think we can fool them yet, Harry.”
 
But the young detective clutched his arm and said: “Don’t you believe it. Just look across the street.”
 
Old King Brady was astounded.
 
One of the trio, Collins it was, stood at an opposite street corner.
 
He glanced at the detectives and then vanished down the side street.
 
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed the old detective. “That beats me! Where did he come from?”
 
“I tell you they are almost omnipresent,” declared Harry. “We can’t seem to turn the trick on them.”
 
“Well, we will!” cried Old King Brady, angrily. “We’ll catch that fellow. Stay here, Harry.”
 
With this the old detective darted across the street.
 
But search as he would, he could find no trace of Collins. Baffled, Old King Brady returned to Broadway. “Confound the slippery rascal!” he cried. “There must be a way to trip them up.”
 
“I have a plan,” said Harry.
 
“What?” asked the old detective, eagerly.
 
“Well, it may seem simple, but I think it will work. Go to an uptown hotel and register.”
 
“Well?”
 
“We will assume to go to our room. But in reality we will slip out by a rear entrance. Once the gang enters the hotel we will nab them.”
 
“But will they do that?”
 
“I think they will. Certainly they will leave nothing undone to encompass our death.”
 
“Very good!” agreed Old King Brady. “We’ll try your plan.”
 
“We’ll go to the Broadway Central Hotel.”
 
“Very good!”
 
“It is an old hostelry and does not depend altogether on elevators. There are rear stairs for us to descend.”
 
The detectives proceeded to carry out their plan.
 
Certainly it looked feasible.
 
They registered at the hotel, boldly, under their own names.
 
They prepaid their room as they did not have baggage.
 
Then they ascended by the elevator. They proceeded to the door of their room.
 
They entered and waited for the bell-boy to disappear.
 
Then they emerged and started for the rear stairs.
 
They reached a corner of the long corridor when some-thing like a chuckle came to their ears.
 
Old King Brady turned his head.
 
“By jove!” he exclaimed, aghast.
 
At the same moment Harry saw the cause of the old detective’s excitement.
 
Far down the corridor a man stood apparently studying the number on a room door. He seemed totally oblivious of the presence of the detectives.
 
It was Dick Burke.
 
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Harry, and said no more. The detectives looked at each other in sheer wonderment.
 
“What do you think of that?”
 
“I think I want that cuss!” said Old King Brady, starting for the crook.
 
But at that moment Burke stepped into a side corridor and vanished.
 
When the detectives reached the spot he was gone.
 
They made a quick search and went all over the hotel.
 
They made inquiries of bell-boys and other attaches.
 
But in vain.
 
It convinced them that they were truly up against a hard game.
 
The trio seemed possessed of a supernatural faculty for making themselves invisible at will.
 
Completely mystified, the Bradys sat down in the hotel lobby and tried to think.
 
It was a conundrum.
 
The foes were close upon their heels and could not be shaken off or decoyed. They were as elusive as the will-o’-the-wisp.
 
It was easy to understand their game.
 
They were waiting only a favorable opportunity for pouncing upon their intended victims. They were slow and patient as the Hindoo thug himself.
 
Old King Brady was all cold sweat.
 
“By Jupiter, Harry!” he exclaimed. “They certainly mean to catch us off our guard. What can we do?”
 
“There is only one plan.”
 
“Well?”
 
“We must make a race of it. Let them chase us. We will keep on the jump. At a favorable moment we will double back on our tracks and then—they are ours.”
 
“A good plan and the only one,” said Old King Brady. “They will pursue us. We are sure of that. We are not smart if we do not fool them in some way.”
 
So the plan was decided upon and action made at once.