DYKE DARREL ON THE TRAIL.
The men who burst into Aunt Scarlet's room on the night that Professor
Ruggles departed from the block with Nell Darrel in his arms, were men
of determination and friends of the detective, who had gone into the
building in the disguise of an old man, for the purpose of
investigating.
How the investigation came out the reader has been already informed.
The report of pistols had warned Harry Bernard, the boy Paul Ender,
and two officers in their company, that something of an interesting
nature was going on in the basement of the Scarlet block.
"Dyke is in difficulty, that is sure," cried Harry, in an excited
voice. "We must get inside at once."
They tried the side door, to find it locked. It was through this door
that they had seen the bold detective disappear, and it was in the
same direction that the four men proposed to go in search of their
daring friend.
The room was in darkness, but Paul soon had the rays of a dark lantern
flashing about the place.
"Let us move with caution," said Harry, taking the lead, and entering
the hall through the doorway which Ruggles, in his hasty flight, had
left open. Soon voices greeted them from the basement, and a light
glimmered through a half-open door at the head of the stairs.
"If we could only put him under down here," said a voice, which the
reader will recognize as that of Nick Brower, the villainous
accomplice of Professor Ruggles from the opening of our story.
"Wal, I reckin we kin," said the villainous companion of Brower. As he
spoke, he went to the side of the fallen man-hunter, and placed the
point of a knife against his throat.
"What now, pard?
"Dead men tell no tales, Nick."
"True. Send it home---"
SPANG!
The sharp report of a revolver wake the echoes once more. The knife
dropped from the nerveless grasp of the would-be assassin, and with a
howl of pain he began dancing an Irish jig on the stone floor of the
cellar.
Nick Brower whirled instantly, snatched a revolver from his hip, to
find that four glittering bulldogs confronted him from the stairs.
"Drop that weapon, or we will drop you!" thundered Harry Bernard in a
stern voice.
"Trapped!" cried Brower, in a despairing voice.
Then the four men moved down into the cellar and secured Brower and
his companion.
"We have made a good haul," said one of the police officers who
accompanied Bernard and Paul, who recognized in Brower an old
offender.
Harry Bernard bent quickly and anxiously over the prostrate detective.
"My soul!" uttered the young man, "the villains have killed poor
Darrel, I do believe."
But the young man's belief was unfounded, since some time later Dyke
Darrel came to his senses. He was in a bad condition, however, and
those who saw him predicted that the detective had followed his last
trail. A search of the building brought to light Madge Scarlet, who
was fuming angrily over her imprisonment.
"How did this happen?" demanded Bernard, sternly, when he came to
question the hag. She was sullen, however, and refused to answer.
"I imagine there is a way to bring your tongue into working order,"
said Bernard, in a stern voice.
"I keep a respectable house, sir; you can't harm me."
"We'll see about that."
"Did you find any one?" questioned the jezabel in an apparently
careless tone.
"We have two of your friends in limbo," returned Harry. "You will find
it no holiday affair to keep a house for the purpose of murder and
robbery. Never mind, you need say nothing, for it will not better
matters in the least. Come;" and Harry Bernard led the old woman from
the cellar.
A patrol wagon bore the prisoners to the lock-up, and Bernard had Dyke
Darrel taken to a private hospital, where he could have the best of
care. It was some days, however, before the badly battered detective
came to his senses sufficiently to converse on the subject of the
racket in the building on Clark street.
"My soul! Harry, has nothing been discovered of poor Nell?--was she
killed?" questioned the wounded man in a voice wrung with anguish.
"I don't think Nell was mortally hurt," returned Bernard in a
reassuring tone, although he hardly felt hopeful himself. "If she was,
why should the villains have taken her away, or the villain rather,
since, from your account, I judge that but one of them escaped, and he
the man with the red hair."
"Yes, he seemed the chief scoundrel among them. I heard him called
Professor Ruggles."
"He is about as much a professor as I am," answered Bernard.
"HE is the man we want for that midnight crime on the express train. I
have evidence enough now, Dyke, to prove that this man is the guilty
principal, and I also believe that one of his accomplices is now in
prison."
"Indeed!"
And then the detective groaned in anguish of spirit and of body. It
was hard to lay here, helpless as a child, while the fate of Nell was
uncertain, and there was so much need for a keen detective to be
afloat. Harry realized how his friend suffered, and soothed him as
best he could. "Leave no stone unturned to find her, Harry," urged the
detective. "If you do find and save her, great shall be your reward.
If she is dead, then I will see about avenging the deed."
"And in that you will not be alone," assured Harry Bernard, a moist
light glittering in his eye. Even Dyke Darrel did not suspect how
deeply his young friend was interested in the fate of Nell.
The days dragged into weeks ere Dyke Darrel was able to be on his feet
again. He was not very strong when he once more took it upon himself
to hunt down the scoundrels who had wrecked his happy home. Even the
railroad crime was forgotten for the time, so intense was his interest
centered in the fate of his sister. If not dead, Dyke Darrel believed
she had met with a far worse fate, and it was this thought that nerved
him to think of doing desperate work should the cruel abductor ever
come before him.
Madge Scarlet was dismissed after an examination, but Nick Brower and
his companion were held to await the action of a higher court.
One morning the pallid man in brown suit who had haunted the various
depots of the city for several days made a discovery. On one of the
early morning trains a man and veiled female had taken passage East.
Dyke Darrel trembled with intense excitement when the depot policeman
told him of this.
"Only this morning, you say?"
"It was on one of the earliest trains, I believe, this morning.
"A New York train?"
"I am not sure. I see so many people, you know. You might inquire at
the ticket office."
Dyke Darrel did so.
No ticket for New York had been sold that morning. Then the policeman
said that it was possible he might have been mistaken as to the time.
It might have been on the previous day he saw the man and his invalid
sister.
"Do you know that they took the New York train?" questioned Dyke.
"No; I'm not positive about that, either. You might telegraph ahead
and find if such a couple is on the train."
This was a wise suggestion.
Dyke acted upon it, but failed to derive any satisfaction.
And there was good reason for this, since when leaving Chicago a dark
man, with smooth face and gray-tinged hair, accompanied Nell Darrel;
whereas, before reaching the borders of New York State, the place of
this man had been taken by a man with red beard and hair, blue
glasses, and a well-worn silk plug.
This change disturbed identities completely. The change had been made
at a way station, without causing remark among the passengers, the
most of whom were not through for the great city. Once New York
whelmed them, the scheming villain and poor Nell would be lost forever
to the man-tracker of the West.
There was a suspicion in the brain of Dyke Darrel that he scarcely
dared whisper to his own consciousness. It was that Harper Elliston
had a hand in the late villainy. The detective's eyes were open at
last, and he realized that his New York friend was not what he seemed.
It was this fact that induced Dyke Darrel to believe that the abductor
of Nell had turned his face toward the American metropolis. At once he
made search for Harry Bernard and Paul Ender.
Neither of them was he able to find, and he had not seen them for two
days previous.
It did not matter, however.
Leaving word at the hotel that he had gone to New York, Dyke Darrel
once more hastened to the depot, arriving just in time to leap aboard
the express headed for the Atlantic seaboard.
The train that had left four hours earlier was almost as fast as the
one taken by the detective, so that if no accident happened to the
earlier train, there could be little hope of running down his prey
before New York was reached.
Nevertheless, Dyke Darrel preserved a hopeful heart, in spite of the
terrible anxiety that oppressed him.
The woman who had but a few days before been released from prison was
destined to complicate matters and bring about startling and
unexpected meetings, as the future will reveal.
When night fell Dyke Darrel found himself yet hundreds of miles from
the goal of his hopes and fears.