The driver of the racer snorted contemptuously. "Do you know who _I_ am?" Burke wasted no time, but jumped into the seat, for it was as opportune as though placed there by Providence. Perhaps Providence has more to do with some coincidences than the worldly wise are prone to confess. "_I'm_ Officer 4434 of the Police Department, and you mind my orders." "Well, I'm Reggie Van Nostrand," answered the young man, "and I take orders from no man." Burke knew this young millionaire by reputation. But he was nowise daunted. He kept his eye on the distant taxicab, which had luckily been halted at the second cross street by the delayed traffic. "I'm going to put this pretty car of yours in the scrap heap, and I'm going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke, drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture him." The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat. "I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon of speed. The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat. Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines, in order to give him the right of way. They were now within a block of the other car. "Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?" "Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him wonder." Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the coat. "I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly one, and will turn down a side street." They did well to keep a lookout, for suddenly the pursued taxi turned sharply to the right. After it they went--not too close, but near enough to keep track of its manoeuvres. "He's going up town now!" said Reggie Van Nostrand, when the car had diverged from the congested district to an open avenue which ran north and south. The machine turned and sped along merrily toward Harlem. "We're willing," said Burke. "I want to track him to his headquarters." Block after block they followed the taxicab. Sometimes they nosed along, at Burke's suggestion, so far behind that it seemed as though a quick turn to a side street would lose their quarry. But it was evident that Baxter had a definite destination which he wished to reach in a hurry. At last they saw the car stop, and then the youth ahead dismounted. He was paying the chauffeur as they whizzed past, apparently giving him no heed.