"I can try," was the grim answer. "He's going some, though!"
"Maybe they'll be held up at some cross street."
"Not this time in the morning," answered the driver. "They've got a straight road to the Park."
On and on went one taxicab after the other. Fifty-fifth Street was passed and still the first turnout kept well in the lead. But then a big furniture van appeared out of a side street and the cab ahead had to slow down.
"Now is your chance!" cried Dick. "Run up alongside of 'em!"
His driver did as requested. But then came a mix-up, as two more cabs appeared, and Dick's was caught between them. He looked ahead and saw the man with the heavy beard leap to the ground.
"Guess your man is going to run for the Park!" cried the taxicab driver. "Hold on—I want my money first, young fellow!"
Dick had leaped to the ground, bent on catching the fleeing individual. He pulled some bills from his pocket.
"Here is five dollars—wait for me!" he cried. "Or maybe you had better come along. That fellow is a criminal."
