Once outside Harry whispered hastily: 

“You go ahead and I’ll fool him.”

He thereupon slipped into an adjoining room.

Old King Brady knew at once what the boy wanted to do, and he left the cabin and began to search the ship for the girl.

La Croix was peering cautiously from the room he was in and seeing the old detective disappearing out the door, he emerged.

Watching Old King Brady to see that his own actions were not observed, the smuggler finally left the steamer with Harry at his heels in a change of appearance which even his keen eyes failed to penetrate.

Old King Brady saw them depart.

He transformed his own appearance.

Both he and Harry now had assumed their natural looks.

There was a big white felt hat on the old detective’s head, his frock coat of dark-blue was buttoned up to the neck, around which there now was a standing collar and an old-fashioned stock and on his hands were cotton gloves.

The boy’s suit of brown plaid, and a bicycle cap on his head, were much different from the reverse side of his clothing and the other hat he had worn.

In the street Harry saw the man hail a cab and get in.

He saw his partner and beckoned to him.

When they met, Harry asked eagerly: 

“Did you find the girl?”

“No.  She must have hurried from the steamer.”

“Well, La Croix is bound to meet her now.”

“Of course.”

“Our plan is to keep him shadowed.”

“See if we can’t get a cab, too.”

They pursued the carriage on foot as far as Eighth avenue before they encountered a public hack and got in.

Instructing the driver to pursue the other vehicle, they were carried up to Fourteenth street, across town to Broadway and thence up to Twenty-third street.

La Croix’s vehicle paused before the Fifth Avenue Hotel and he alighted.

“We were not misinformed about his address,” commented Harry.

“No.  He is probably going in there to meet the girl.”

“Let’s get out here at the Arch so as not to attract his attention.”

“Very well.  Be careful now.”

They dismissed the cab and hurried into the hotel.

La Croix had disappeared from view and the detectives hastened to the office and said to the clerk: 

“Got a party here named La Croix?”

“Yes, sir.  They’re in room 678.  Wish to send up your name?”

“No,” replied Old King Brady, with a smile, as he exhibited his badge.

“Oh,” said the clerk, “detective, eh?”

“We’re after La Croix.  He’s a crook.”

“He is?  What has he done?”

“Smuggler.”

“I see.  How about his wife and daughter?”

“They must be in his game too.”

“Going to pull them in?”

“Probably.  Is he in his room?”

“He just went up the stairs.”