He glanced over his shoulder and caught view of the shadowy figures of several men lurking about the trees lining the street. Old King Brady was astonished. She evidently had a body-guard of watchful men. "Who are those people?" he demanded. "My friends," she replied, quietly. "If they saw you attack or follow me, they would put a sudden end to your career at long range." "By firing?" "Yes." "Let me walk as far as the corner with you." "Very well, Mr. Brady. I have no objection to that." The journey was made in utter silence, and the old detective noticed that the shadowy men were following them. When they reached the corner, Old King Brady glanced around, looking for Harry, who agreed to meet him there. The boy was nowhere in sight. Old King Brady then coughed and dropped his handkerchief as a signal. For a moment there was no notice paid to it, but presently he heard a distant hissing sound of singular penetration. It was an answer to his signal and meant that he was seen and understood. With a satisfied feeling the old detective now said to the veiled woman: "I shall leave you here. Don't think I am ungrateful for your kindness. On the contrary, I appreciate it very much. But my duty compels me to pay no heed to your valuable warning. I must run down my quarry. Good-night, madam." "Good-night, sir." He tipped his hat and strode away to the Walker House, where he was staying. She stood watching him until he was several blocks distant and then gave vent to a low, peculiar whistle. Instantly four men came gliding from the shadows, and grouped around her, as she started to walk away. She was heading for the railroad depot. When she was gone, Harry Brady slid down from the dense foliage of a nearby tree where he had been a hidden watcher. The boy had seen the woman and her body-guard, and knew that his partner wanted him to shadow her from that point. Accordingly he glided along after them. Dodging from tree to tree, slinking along in the densest shadows and never exposing himself for an instant in a ray of light which would betray him, Harry dogged them to the railroad station. He saw them purchase tickets and board a train. Gliding over to the ticket office he asked the agent: "Where did those five people buy tickets for?" "Montreal," replied the man, "on the Grand Trunk road." "Thank you," said Harry, politely. And the boy ran behind a freight car to shelter him from the gaze of the passengers in the waiting train. Finding an opening between two of the cars he peered through. Directly opposite him sat the woman in black, with two of her male companions in the seat ahead and two behind her. She was close to the window. Just then she drew her veil aside and Harry saw her face. A startled cry escaped the boy. "By jove!" he gasped. "She's Clara La Croix, the girl smuggler!" And so she was! CHAPTER VIII. GAINING A FEW POINTS.