A BOUT IN THE CELLAR.
It was a stout tin lamp that the fleeing girl held in her hand, and
the blaze filled the subterranean apartment but dimly.
She found herself in a square room, larger than the one she had just
left. Advancing to a door she tried it, to find it locked. This was
made to yield, however, by one of the bunch of keys, and she proceeded
to another door that stood ajar.
"Help!"
It was a smothered cry that reached the girl's ears, and quite
startled her.
The sound came from the next apartment. For a minute Nell Darrel
hesitated. She reasoned that she had nothing to fear from the hag who
kept the place, and one who was in need of help certainly could not be
a friend to Mrs. Scarlet, or those who profited by the old woman's
villainy.
"Help!"
Again came that cry, and Nell moved forward, pushed open the door and
flashed her light over the scene--a room much smaller than the one she
had just quitted.
A dark object writhing on the floor startled her vision.
"Old woman, do you mean to murder me here?"
The man seemed to imagine that the new comer was the hag who kept the
place. With trembling step Nell Darrel advanced and flashed her light
into the face of a bound and helpless prisoner.
"Mercy! It is Dyke!"
Stunned at the discovery, Nell was completely overcome for the time,
and stood with arms extended like one petrified.
"Nell, is it you?" cried the yet stunned detective. "Where is the old
hag who rules this den of iniquity?"
"Back yonder, safely locked in a room," said Nell, when she could find
voice.
"And you did it?"
"Yes."
"Cut these cords, brave girl, and we will soon be out of this."
Placing her lamp on a box near, Nell Darrel proceeded to comply with
the request of her brother. She had with her a small open knife, and
this came into play neatly enough.
Soon the detective's limbs were free. He found when he attempted to
rise, that he was unable to do so.
"I received a bad fall," he said, with a groan. "Lend me a hand, Nell,
and we will get out of this before friends of that woman come to her
rescue."
Nell assisted her brother to his feet. He groaned with pain, for it
seemed to him as though every bone in his body was broken.
"I was a fool to run into such a trap," he muttered.
"Can you walk, brother?"
"I can make a desperate try at any rate," uttered the detective,
grimly. Then, assisted by Nell's arm, he hobbled across the floor
toward a narrow stairs that promised them passage to rooms above.
The beard and wig were left in the cellar.
The sound of steps on the floor overhead brought brother and sister to
a sudden halt.
"Hark!"
"Some one is coming," uttered Nell.
"It seems so."
Then the sound of an opening door startled them.
"It's strange that Madge has left everything in such a careless way,"
said a masculine voice. "Ho! Madge, where are you?"
"Hold up thar," uttered another voice. "I reckin the old gal know'd
what she was doin'. Thar's some skulduggery goin' on down here, or my
name ain't Nick Brower. I seed an old bloke come in, and 'twixt me an
you, Professor, it was the man you'n me would give more to see out of
the world than in it."
"You mean Dyke Darrel, the detective?"
"I couldn't mean anybody else."
"Come on, then, let's investigate."
"Extinguish your light, Nell," cried Dyke Darrel, in a thrilling
whisper.
The girl did so at once, but the men above flashed a light into the
basement room, and soon steps were heard descending the stairs. Dyke
felt over his person to discover that Mother Scarlet had been prudent
enough to deprive him of arms.
Nell, white as death, yet with a determined look in her eyes, clinched
her derringer firmly, and with close-shut teeth waited the denouement.
"If we could only get under the stairs," said the detective, in a low
voice.
They made a move to carry out his suggestion, but it was too late.
"Ha!"
This exclamation fell from the lips of the foremost man of three who
were descending the narrow stairs. The outcry was caused at seeing two
forms gliding across the stone floor toward the stairs.
"Quick! Hold up there, or we fire!" cried a sharp voice. Then the
three men rapidly descended to the floor and confronted Nell and the
detective. Three revolvers were leveled, and death literally stared
brother and sister in the face.
"Caught, by the powers," sneered lips above a massive red beard, and
Professor Darlington Ruggles' eyes glittered with intense satisfaction
as they peered into the face of the famous railroad detective.
Had Dyke Darrel been in the full vigor of his manly strength, and Nell
not by to unnerve him, his chances for escape would have been tenfold
greater.
As it was, a terrible weakness oppressed him. His fall into the
basement had jarred him terribly, and it was with difficulty that he
could stand alone. The walls seemed to whirl about in a mad waltz, and
the faces of the three villains seemed one mass of grinning demons.
"Halt!"
Nell Darrel, white as death, yet with the fires of a resolute purpose
blazing in her eyes, thrust forward her pistol.
"It's pretty Nell on a lark!" exclaimed Professor Ruggles. "It will be
better for you not to make any resistance, for the moment you attempt
it, that moment death will come to both of you. Be wise in time."
The Professor advanced a step.
"Stop there," sternly ordered the girl.
"Aye! stop there," repeated Dyke, in a voice husky from very weakness.
"We will not be taken alive. Do you know on what dangerous grounds you
are treading? This block is surrounded by members of the force, and
any harm offered to Nell or myself speedily avenged."
A jeering laugh answered the detective.
"It is wrong to tell such a whopper, Mr. Darrel, especially when one
is on the verge of eternity," said Ruggles, showing his teeth.
The situation was interesting.
"Will you permit us to depart from here?" questioned the detective,
suddenly.
This speech brought a laugh to the lips of Darlington Ruggles.
"You do not seem to know me!" he said.
"I know that you pretend to be a professor of some sort, but I believe
that you are in disguise. I think, if you would cast aside that red
hirsute covering, we should see----"
"Zounds! Go for him, boys," cried Professor Ruggles in a loud voice,
completely drowning the faint accents of Dyke Darrel.
The two men who kept the Professor company, made a quick move to seize
the twain in front of them. On the instant came a flash and sharp
report.
One of the villains staggered and sank with a groan against the
stairs.
"I--I'm shot!" he gasped.
"The she jade!"
It was Nick Brower who uttered the hissing cry of rage, and the next
instant the villain's revolver flashed.
"My God! You have killed Nell!"
It was a cry expressive of the deepest agony, as the weak and reeling
detective caught the form of his sister in his arms, as she fell
backward, with the blood streaming down her face.
Poor Nell!
She hung a dead weight in the arms of Dyke Darrel--murdered by the
hand of a brutal assassin.
No wonder the bruised and almost helpless man-hunter groaned with
inward anguish at the sight.
He fell no easy prey into the hands of his enemies, however.
Staggering backward, and easing his bleeding relative to the ground,
he turned with a mad cry and dashed at the throat of Professor
Darlington Ruggles.
Both men staggered across the floor against the stairs.
"I will strangle you for this," hissed the enraged detective.
"Help!" gasped Ruggles.
Brower came to his assistance with a vengeance, and rained terrific
blows upon the head of Dyke Darrel with the butt of his revolver. Soon
the mad grip relaxed from the throat of Ruggles, and Dyke Darrel sank
a bleeding and insensible mass to the floor.
Panting and gasping, Professor Ruggles leaned against the stairs and
gazed about him in the gloom.
The lamp had been overturned in the struggle, and at the last,
darkness reigned supreme.
"I've fixed him, Professor," growled Nick Brower, in a savage
undertone.
"I hope so, the devil. He went for me with the venom of a tiger. Have
you a match?"
"Yes."
"Let's have a light. I'm afraid you have done a miserable job, Nick."
Inside of five minutes the overturned lamp was recovered and burning
once more. Its rays revealed a ghastly scene. Two forms lay on the
floor, Dyke Darrel and Nell, both apparently dead.
Nick's companion, who had screamed so lustily at the fire from Nell
Darrel's derringer, still leaned against the stairs seeming little the
worse for wear.
"Mike, where are you hit?"
"Don't know. I FELT the bullet goin' through my brains."
A brief examination showed that the man had only been grazed by the
shot from the girl's pistol. When this discovery was made Professor
Ruggles became very angry.
"You made more fuss than a man shot through the neck ought to. The
girl has been killed in consequence. Hades! this has been a bad
evening's work. I would rather have lost a thousand dollars than had
Nell Darrel slain."
"She wan't wuth no sich money," growled Brower.
"How do you know what she was worth, you miserable brute?" snarled the
Professor, in an angry voice. "I take it, that I know more about it
than you do."
"See here, boss, aren't you goin' on a bin run for nothin'? Whar'd you
be now if I hadn't gin Dyke Darrel his quietus? Mebbe you'd better
thank instead of curse your friend."
There was a deal of homely sense in the words of burly Nick Brower,
and the prince of villains realized it.
"I wanted the girl unharmed, Nick. If she's dead I don't suppose it
can be helped, however; she brought her fate upon herself."
"That she did, Prof."
Professor Ruggles then proceeded to make an examination of the wound
in Nell Darrel's head. He was gratified to discover that the bullet
had merely glanced across the girl's skull without making a
necessarily dangerous wound.
"I will take the girl out of this while you dispose of the detective,"
said Ruggles. "Be sure and fix him so that he will give no trouble in
the future."
"Trust me fur thet," answered the villain Brower.
Then Professor Ruggles passed up the stairs with Nell Darrel in his
arms, just as four men halted at the side door in the alley.