"Give us a drink," Old King Brady implored. When this was done they asked for something to eat. The trainmen got some food at the station and a big crowd gathered round when the news spread. After eating and drinking and rubbing their legs and arms, the Bradys recovered rapidly and told who they were and what befell them. In a short time they were able to walk. "Are you going back to New York to arrest the rascal who did this?" asked the man who discovered them. "No, indeed!" replied Harry, quickly. "We wouldn't find them there if we did. They are probably on their way to Canada now." "Going after them?" "Yes." "Then you'd better stay with us until we arrive in Buffalo and you won't have so far to go to reach Montreal." "We'll do that," said Old King Brady. "But don't let on about our escape. If the newspapers get hold of the story and publish it, our enemy may learn how we baffled his design and he will be on his guard against an attack from us." "I'll keep mum, Mr. Brady. We'll reach Buffalo to-night and you can then attend properly to your injuries." The train then moved on, and the detectives finally reached their destination and put up in a hotel, where a physician attended to their injuries. CHAPTER VII. A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN IN BLACK. "Old King Brady, your life is in danger." "From what?" "The man you are persecuting." "You mean Paul La Croix, I presume?" "I do. Go back to New York at once." "Madam, I shall do nothing of the kind." "Then you must suffer for your obstinacy." "I am prepared for anything, madam." "Remember, I have given you fair warning. You cannot arrest La Croix on Canadian soil for smuggling." And the veiled woman in deep mourning, who accosted the old detective in a dark street in Toronto, turned as if to walk away. This happened several weeks after the Bradys reached Buffalo. They had been vainly searching for La Croix and his wife. On the night in question, Old King Brady had gone out from his hotel alone, when the woman in mourning met him in the street. The light of a street lamp fell upon them. She gave a slight start and began to follow him. When he discovered this and turned around, asking why she was dogging his footsteps, she gave the above recorded answer. By her mentioning his name, he realized that she knew him, and he at once suspected she was La Croix's wife. He resolved to fathom the mystery of her identity. Seizing her arm, he exclaimed: "Hold on a moment." "Well?" she asked, pausing obediently. "I want to know who you are that takes such a deep interest in my welfare. I want to know who it is that knows me--who knows all about the private business which has brought me to this city. Speak out. Who are you?" "Your friend," replied the mysterious unknown. "What is your name?" he persisted. "I must decline to tell you." "But I won't take a refusal. You must speak." "No. Allow me to retain my incognito. It were best for us both."