DYKE DARREL ASTOUNDED.
Dyke Darrel lifted a cloth from the face of the dead, and Harper
Elliston stood gazing down upon the features of wronged and murdered
Sibyl Osborne.
The detective watched the expression of his companion's countenance
closely.
With bated breath the man-hunter glued his gaze upon the face of the
man bending over the casket.
"What a sad face, and yet most wonderful in its beauty. Who is she? A
daughter of the house?"
Harper turned and regarded Dyke Darrel questioningly, a sympathetic
look in his black eyes.
"Do you not know her?"
"_I_ know her? You forget that I am a stranger in this part of the
West, Dyke."
"She, too, was a stranger here, Elliston. Her home was in Burlington,
and she has been brought to this by a villain who ought to pass the
remainder of his days behind prison bars, if not conclude them at a
rope's end. Do you know Hubert Vander?"
There was a stern ring in the detective's voice, and a look of deep,
indignant feeling pervading his face. All the time he kept his gaze
riveted on Elliston.
That gentleman stood the ordeal without flinching, however.
"Hubert Vander? The name is a new one to me, Dyke."
"Indeed!"
A sneer curled the lip of the detective.
"What do you mean by that?" questioned Mr. Elliston. "Am I to
understand that you connect ME in any way with this girl's death, or
that I am a friend to this Hubert Vander of whom you speak?"
"Your pretended indignation will not deceive, Harper Elliston. Look at
THIS, and tell me what you think of it," said Dyke Darrel, with the
sternness of steel.
The detective laid the photograph he had obtained in the Black Hollow
cabin in the hand of Mr. Elliston.
The New Yorker did start then.
He gazed long and constantly at the pictured face.
"What have you to say now, Harper Elliston?" demanded Dyke Darrel, in
an awful voice.
"It is a mighty close resemblance," returned the gentleman. "Where did
you obtain this, Dyke?"
"From Sibyl Osborne."
"Sibyl Osborne?"
"She who lies before you. If that is not YOUR portrait, and if you are
not the man who murdered Captain Osborne and ruined his daughter, then
I am out of my senses."
With the words Dyke Darrel presented a cocked revolver at the heart of
the cool, smiling villain before him.
The smile left the New Yorker's face, and a serious expression
followed it.
"What? You draw a pistol on me, Dyke Darrel? I am surprised," cried
Mr. Elliston in an injured tone. "I did not imagine that you could
lose confidence in me, let what would happen. Can it be that our
friendship was but a brittle cord, after all?"
"I cannot remain friendly when my confidence has been betrayed."
"And you deem me a most hardened scoundrel? Of course you will give me
a hearing. You are an upholder of law, and do not approve of lynching.
Here, put on the handcuffs, Dyke, and take me to prison. You will be
sorry for this some time, but now that circumstances are against me
your friendship falls to the ground. I did not expect such treatment.
However, I can live through it; but I shall never feel toward you as I
have in times past. Put on the irons, Dyke. Why do you hesitate?"
"There is a chance for a mistake, of course," said the detective,
"I am glad you admit that much."
"Is that your photograph?"
"You said it belonged to a young lady!"
"But is it a photograph of your face?"
"It is not."
"You swear it?"
"I do."
"And you were not in Black Hollow, last night?"
"I was not."
"Swear it?
"I swear it."
"You did not know this dead girl?"
Dyke Darrel pointed toward the face in the coffin.
"I did not."
"Will you swear to this also?"
"With my hand on my heart I swear."
The white hand of Mr. Elliston was laid impressively against his
bosom.
There was such a look of honest earnestness on the man's face it was
impossible to doubt, and Dyke Darrel was forced to forego arresting
the New Yorker then and there.
If he was not fully satisfied, he did not permit Elliston to note the
fact.
"I did but try you, Harper," Dyke Darrel said with a smile, extending
his hand. "You are true as steel and I am glad to find it so. I have
endured misery since last night, because I feared, and came to believe
otherwise."
"You will trust me as of old?"
"Yes."
"Thanks. Now tell me all about the facts regarding this poor girl."
Dyke Darrel did as requested, although he kept back some things that
he did not deem it necessary for Mr. Elliston to know.
"And you saw this Hubert Vander peering into the cabin window--the man
who looks like me!"
"I did."
"Well, it's pretty tough, and no mistake, to have a fellow of such
villainous character circulating about in this region. I hope I won't
be hung for his crime by indignant citizens. I agree with you that
this Hubert Vander is a sleek villain, and that hanging is too good
for him. It does seem that you made an important discovery last night,
however."
"Explain."
"This man Vander no doubt murdered Captain Osborne."
"I am led to think so myself," said Dyke Darrel.
"He also jilted the Captain's daughter, if no worse, and the two
sorrows turned the poor girl's brain. It is a sad and terrible case. I
feel deeply interested, and hope to see the scoundrel who looks like
me brought to justice."
"I am glad to hear you say so."
"Furthermore I have another idea."
"Proceed."
"It is undoubtedly this Vander who planned the robbery of the midnight
express. A man who could deceive one so beautiful as this girl, would
not hesitate to do anything to feather his own nest."
"Again I agree with you."
"Evidently it was either this man, or friends of his, who fastened the
door of the cabin, and fired it with the hope of destroying the
detective who was dogging them so closely."
"True, I had thought of that."
"And here's another thing."
"Well?"
"May not this Vander and his friends conclude that the man-hunter
perished in the flames, if they fail to see him again? A disguise
would fix that easily, you know."
"No, that will not go down."
"Why not?"
"My enemies will visit the ruins of the cabin, and failing to discover
skeletons, will learn the truth."
"That does not necessarily follow."
"I think it does. I may act on your suggestion, however," returned
Dyke Darrel.
"And put on a disguise?"
"Yes."
"What will it be?"
The detective laughed.
"Don't ask me, Harper," he said. "Of what use a disguise that my
friends all understood?"
"Is this because you fear to trust me, after what has happened, Dyke?"
"No; but I prefer to keep my own counsel!"
"And you are right."
"I am glad you admit it."
The friends then left the room.
At the last moment, Dyke Darrel decided on accompanying the remains of
Captain Osborne's daughter to Burlington. He realized that it was the
proper thing to do. Elliston parted with the detective, telling him
that he meant to return to Woodburg for the present, and would meet
him there on his return from the Iowa city.
It was a sad duty that led the railroad detective to revisit
Burlington, which he had last looked upon in the fall, shortly after
Captain Osborne's disappearance.
Arrived in the bustling Western city, Dyke Darrel was met at the depot
by a surprise. An officer laid his hand on the detective's shoulder,
and said:
"You are my prisoner, young man."
"Eh? Well, now, what is this for?" demanded Dyke Darrel angrily.
"FOR THE MURDER OF CAPTAIN OSBORNE AND HIS DAUGHTER!"
Dyke Darrel felt the cold muzzle of a revolver touch his temple at the
last.