“You stop your humbug and come with me, or I’ll pull you out of here by the neck, do you understand me?”

He took a firm grip on his man with one hand and drew a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket with the other.

Seeing he could not brave the matter out, and fearing lest the boy would attempt to handcuff him, the Frenchman wrenched himself free.

“You geet avay!” he hissed.

“Not without you!” retorted Harry, pluckily.

And he rushed forward to grasp the villain again.

By this time La Croix had become frantic with desperation.

Seeing the boy coming, he drew back the big carving knife with a quick motion and aimed a blow at the boy, shouting in the meantime: 

“Zen take zat!”

The deadly blade leaped toward Harry’s breast.

He tried to avoid it by leaping back, but was too late.

The knife struck him and the point pierced his side.

A sudden cry of agony escaped Young King Brady, and he flung up his hands and pitched over upon the floor.

Nearly every one in the room having had their attention attracted toward the pair had witnessed the tragedy.

Men turned pale and leaped to their feet, women shrieked and fainted, and some of the bolder waiters rushed at the Frenchman to disarm and capture him.

La Croix brandished the knife.

“I keel ze fairst man who touch me!” he yelled.

Dashing out of the room, he rushed upstairs and flourished the knife at his pursuers.  He swore at every step and threatened to run the blade into the first man who got within his reach.

That cowed the crowd and he disappeared on the floor above.

CHAPTER XII.

RUN TO COVER.

There was a scene of furious excitement in the hotel dining-room, and during the confusion, Clara La Croix made her escape.

Among the guests who had been dining was a physician who ran to Harry’s aid and made a rapid examination of his wound.

To the many anxious, pale-faced spectators who gathered round, he said: 

“Don’t be alarmed.  It’s a mere flesh wound and will soon heal up.”

“Isn’t he dead?” demanded a gentleman in a dress-suit, anxiously.

“No.  Simply fainted from the shock on his system.”

“He’s evidently a detective.”

“Yes, sir, and his assailant is a criminal.  Waiter, get me some water—­a sponge—­bandages, and some linament.  I’ll bandage this wound and stop the bleeding.”

While the doctor was busy working over the unconscious boy, the hotel detective and a policeman came running in and got the details.

They hastened away and scoured the hotel in quest of La Croix.

That worthy had gone to his wife’s room.

Garbed in one of her bonnets, veils and dresses, he descended in the elevator and swiftly got away from the Waldorf, undetected.