There was no need to tell Stuart Floyd what it was, nor did he stop to learn whither it ran. He turned like a flash and darted toward the main stairway of the hotel, down which he fled at top speed, tearing off his disguise while he sped down the stair and thrusting it into his pocket. Chick Carter had caught sight of him, however, and instantly guessed the truth. “He’s wise, by thunder, and knows we’re on his trail,” flashed through Chick’s mind. “But in getting him, I must get the others, also. I’ll take the other course.” Chick did not stop to inform Nick what had occurred. He rushed to the side stairway at the end of the corridor, and flew down each flight at record speed, bent upon picking up Floyd when he emerged from the front of the house. Though he came near being too late, his tremendous efforts proved successful. He caught sight of Floyd running across the avenue on which the house fronted, and then darting into a cross street leading toward the East Side. “I’ll get you now, by Jove,” Chick muttered, with eyes alert. “If you give me the slip this night, you shall have a medal.” Floyd, seeming to feel reasonably safe when well away from the hotel, slowed down in order not to attract attention. Several times he looked back, however, but could discover no one following him. Chick was steadily gaining on him, nevertheless, and before a block had been covered he met a policeman. “Here, Grady, one moment,” he said sharply. The officer recognized him instantly, for Chick had removed his disguise. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Carter,” said he, touching his helmet. “Yes,” said Chick quickly. “I’m on the track of a crook, Stuart Floyd.” “The deuce you say!” “I may need you and others to pull a gang. Follow me at a short distance and pick up help as you come along. Don’t lose sight of me.” “Not on your life,” said Grady, with eyes beginning to glow. “Join me at once, if you see me wave my arm.” “I’ve got you, sir.” There had been only a momentary stop, and Chick had not for an instant lost sight of his man. Floyd was fifty yards ahead of the detective, and on the opposite side of the street. He no longer was hurrying greatly. He seemed to feel that he had got safely away. Chick crept on after him, steadily gaining. Grady had a constant eye on Chick and cautiously followed him. Presently he picked up another policeman, and a moment later a plain-clothes man from the precinct station. All followed Chick, hugging the buildings they were passing. Five minutes later, Chick saw Floyd stop suddenly in front of an old wooden house. It was that in which Hogan dwelt with his wife. Floyd, when about to enter, heard a terrible crash in the rear yard, and then a window thrown open and a roar from Baldy Gammon. Instead of entering the house, Floyd rushed through the alley and into the little back yard. Hogan and Gammon came tearing down a back stairway and joined him.