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DICK ENTERS THE TRAP
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tain lines, leaned out of the open cab, looked back and said:

"Any of your friends in that machine, Dick?"

"Friends? No. Why?"

"Because it's sticking to us like court-plaster. Say, sport," and Tim leaned forward to the chauffeur, "are you wise to de—I mean the fact that we're being chased?"

"Hadn't noticed it," replied the driver, shortly.

"Well, we are. Is it a fly-cop; or has your license expired?"

"Search me," was the characteristic reply of the chauffeur. "But we'll give 'em a run for their money," and increasing speed, he turned first down one street and up another until, after five minutes' run, the other cab was not in sight.

"We either lost 'em, or else they got wise and dropped back," was Tim's opinion. "But who were they, Dick?"

"I can't imagine, unless they are some cranks who like to look at a chap because he has a little money. Maybe they're fellows who hope to work me for some game like Colonel Dendon did, when he tried to sell me fake mining shares. I've noticed a couple of men who kept rather close watch on me once or twice to-day, but I guess we've lost track of them. Well, here we are; come in and have a good meal."

Dick paid, and dismissed the chauffeur, for other taxicabs could be summoned at the restaurant. As the young millionaire and Tim entered