A jeering roar of laughter followed. But at this moment the door of the place burst open again. This time Old King Brady and a couple of policemen appeared. The old detective had not been seriously wounded. The bullet had struck him a glancing blow in the leg and had brought him down with the shock. But he had quickly recovered. Van, however, was beyond pursuit. But Old King Brady had seen Harry pursue his man into the liquor saloon. Realizing that the young detective might need assistance, he hailed a couple of policemen and started after him. He had arrived just in the nick of time. Harry was facing the gang of crooks, but the odds were too great for him and the result might have been serious had he been left to play his hand alone. The appearance of the officers, however, had a salutary effect. The gang fell back toward the bar. “What’s this?” cried Old King Brady. “Where is your man, Harry?” “I might have caught him but for these fellows who have tried to block me,” said Harry. The old detective gazed keenly at the proprietor of the place. “If I am not mistaken, I know you, Jack Billings!” he said. “Up to your old tricks, eh? Where is Dan Collins?” Billings shifted his gaze. “I don’t know who you mean,” he said. “Yes, you do, too,” said Old King Brady, sharply. “Come, out with it. I want the truth.” “I don’t know the man!” “You speak falsely!” “I swear it.” “Your oath is worthless. Come, tell us the truth. Where is he?” “Really,” protested Billings, “I don’t know the man you are speaking of. But perhaps you are after a fellow who rushed through here a little while ago and went out through that rear door.” “And you detained me here on purpose to aid his escape,” declared Harry. “Don’t you deny it. You shall pay for this.” “That is not so!” “Don’t lie about it. I shall see you later!” cried the young detective as with his companions he rushed through the door at the far end of the saloon. They emerged into a small paved court. CHAPTER XV. WHICH ENDS THE CASE. 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. 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.