But the birds had flown.  
Again they had escaped the Bradys. It was a disheartening reflection.
 
Ordinary men might have abandoned the case in despair.
 
But the Bradys were not of that sort.
 
With their usual tenacity they hung out, still looking for a clew which they felt was bound to come.
 
In fact they had little choice in the matter.
 
They knew there was nothing to be done but to trap the Tough Trio.
 
28
If they did not do so the trio would trap them. It was a case of the survival of the fittest.
 
The Bradys failed to track their birds even the slightest distance. The trio had seemed to cover their tracks effectually.
 
Days passed and still the Bradys were befogged.
 
One day they ran across a detective of the regular city force in a lower part of New York.
 
“There’s no use in you fellows trying to find the trio,” said this fellow, whose name was Whitman.
 
“Indeed!” said Old King Brady, caustically. “You are very sure of that, are you?”
 
“As sure as can be!”
 
“How do you get your surety?”
 
“Well, I know that all three of the rascals have skipped the country.”
 
For a moment the Bradys stared at each other.
 
Then Old King Brady said:
 
“Do you mean to Europe?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Do you know that?”
 
“Well, you bet I do!”
 
“Can you prove it?”
 
Whitman was silent a moment. Then he said:
 
“Well, I’ve been working up a case on the White Star Line dock. I know three men sailed from there last Saturday whom I am sure are the trio.”
 
“Did you see them?”
 
“Well, that is, a friend of mine did.”
 
Finally the fellow was bound to admit that he was not by any means sure of his statement.
 
He depended largely upon the imagination of another, and finally, much discomfited, admitted that he could not prove it.
 
The Bradys thus met with all sorts of rumors.
 
But they said nothing.
 
All the while they were quietly at work.
 
One day, however, a messenger boy stopped them at the door of their lodgings.
 
He handed them a message.
 
Thus it read:
 
“My dear Brady:
 
“Come down to the office at once. I think I have a clew for you.
“Chief of the Secret Service.”
 
“Ah!” said Old King Brady, with a smile. “Perhaps at last we have hit upon the right thing. Let us try it.”
 
So the Bradys at once went down to the Secret Service headquarters.
 
The chief welcomed them warmly.
 
“I am glad to see you!” he said. “And I believe I have valuable news for you!”
 
“That is what we are looking for,” said Harry.
 
“You are still after the trio?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“You can’t seem to find a clew as to their whereabouts?”
 
“Not the slightest.”
 
“Well,” said the chief, slowly, “yesterday we brought a man in here from Chinatown. He killed a man in an opium den.
 
“While questioning him closely I learned that he knew Dan Collins.”
 
“Dan Collins!” exclaimed Harry.
 
“Yes. Do you know him?”
 
“He is one of the trio!”
 
“Ah! Then it is all right. Collins and two companions have been frequenting Ah Ling’s place in Mott street for a few days past.”
 
“Hitting the pipe?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Are they there now?”
 
“They may be!”
 
Old King Brady sprang up.
 
“Come, Harry!” he cried. “Here is work for us.”
 
“I feel it in my bones,” said the young detective, “that the game is ours.”
 
“I agree with you,” said the chief. “If those fellows are taking dope you will surely get them.”
 
Old King Brady knew that many a criminal had been taken in this way.
 
Under the influence of opium they are careless and easily entrapped. So Old King Brady’s spirits arose.
 
“Very good!” he said, with his grim smile. “I think we shall get them.”
 
“The tip may be of no value,” said the chief, “but such as it is I give it to you.”
 
“I feel sure that it is of great value!” said Harry. “We will get our men this time.”
 
Frequenters of the opium dens sometimes drop from sight for days.
 
This would easily explain why the Bradys had not heard from the villains bef............