"No, not at all," answered Oakes. "They are watching to see _where_ I am going. You see," he continued, "I am working on several other cases, and perhaps they are, too. You realize there are times when men of my profession cross each other's paths, and it is advantageous to know what the other fellow is doing." "I see. Keeping tab on one another!" I said. "Rather expensive work, is it not?" Oakes smiled. "Yes, but it is business. I like to know when a rival leaves town. I keep a pretty close watch myself on some of them." We drove rapidly, and soon pulled up at an out-of-the-way roadhouse. "Come," said Oakes, alighting. A portly German was behind the bar, evidently the proprietor. Oakes made a sudden movement of his hand, and the door was locked. We two were then shown into a rear room where two other men were seated--both tall, well-built fellows, and both dressed as we were, in dark overcoats and black Fedora hats. They saluted Oakes, and after a word or two stepped into the bar-room, where the German served them with drinks. In a minute they were in our carriage and driving away toward Yonkers. "I see now why you were particular as to my dress." "Yes, a substitution like this is useful sometimes. I thought I might be forced to make one. Much better than nonsensical disguises. We will soon know if any one is coming after us," he continued. "This is really the last place before the fork of the road, and anyone following us would have to be in sight all the time, or else stop here for information." The proprietor motioned us upstairs to a front room, and Oakes said to him: "Remember, we have gone to Yonkers." But the good-natured German evidently knew his business, for he only smiled and went off muttering something to himself about a "damned good mix-up." In a few minutes two men drew up in a buggy, and were admitted below by the obsequious old fellow. Then we heard the question: "Have you seen two tall gentlemen in black coats and soft hats hereabouts, Dutchy?" The German thought a moment: "Yah, yah; dare vas two big fellers just here; dey vas took some viskey and got away quick." "Which way?" asked the men. "Dey vas gone up dar Yonkers Road." Oakes chuckled. "The old fellow is all right; an old friend of mine." Then we heard the men say: "Here, Dutchy, here's something for you," and we knew they had given him a tip. In a moment they were gone, and the old fellow was to be heard chuckling audibly to himself: "Five dollar for von great big mix-up." Oakes watched the team turn up the Yonkers Road after our decoy, and then he said: "Come, Stone, move quickly." He led the way downstairs to the back entrance, and to the stable, where we found a man with a team. He saluted us. It was the carriage in which Oakes's men had come out. "Drive hard for the Harlem Station; we can catch the 10:30 train," was the order. Our driver evidently knew what to do, and we soon passed out of the carriage-way.