In the meantime Harper Elliston, true to his word for once at least, left the train at the Woodburg depot on the same morning that his young detective friend arrived in Burlington.
Repairing to his room at the hotel, the New Yorker remained until the dinner hour. After this he turned his steps in the direction of the Darrel Cottage.
"I suppose Nell Darrel will be delighted to see me," chuckled Elliston, as he walked up the steps and rang the bell.
Aunt Jule opened the door. "Marse Dyke ain't home."
"But Miss Nell is, I suppose."
"Yes, and deed, sir; she's got company, and can't see no one fur de present," cried the grinning negress, quickly.
"Company? A lot of chattering girls, I suppose?"
"No; a young gemmen——"
"A gentleman?"
The frown that blackened the brows of Harper Elliston was not pleasant to see. He was not pleased that Nell should receive other male company than himself.
"I will enter. I think she will see me when she knows who has come," said he, pushing past the negress, and entering the front room.
He seated himself in an armchair, and proceeded to coolly await the coming of the mistress of the house.
Soon Nell Darrel came in. Her face was suffused with smiles, which evidenced that she had heard good news. Elliston, however, flattered himself that it was his coming that caused the pleased look on the face of the detective's sister.
"A pleasant day, Mr. Elliston."
"Rather."
He rose and held out his hand. She did not accept it, much to his chagrin.
"Aren't you glad to see me, Nell?" he queried. "I've been absent almost a week, and I thought you would be longing for my company by this time."
A smile of self-assurance crossed his dark face.
"I have no reason to regard you with any more consideration than on your former visit," she said. "Have you seen my brother?"
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"In Iowa, I presume."
"He is well?"
"He was when I parted with him, a short time since. You haven't heard from him?"
"Yes. He was then in a small town in the South or West, I believe."
Thus they chatted for some time.
During the past few days a desperate resolve had taken possession of Elliston's brain. He admired the pretty Nell now more than ever, and he was determined to make one more effort to win her regard before going to extremes.
That morning he had braced his nerves with several draughts of brandy, and the fumes yet affected him, thus rendering him extremely imprudent, to say the least.
"Nell, Jule tells me you had company when I came. Who was it?"
"A gentleman."
"Aye, but his name?"
The man's eyes glittered, and seemed to pierce with their keenness to the soul of the girl who sat in front of him. She could smell his breath, too, and the fact that he had been drinking made her a little nervous.
She was anxious for him to depart.
"He is not one of your acquaintances," replied Nell, evasively.
"But one of yours, it seems," sneered the man, in a tone that was the least bit disrespectful.
"Mr. Elliston, did you come here to insult me?"
"Certainly not," he answered in a gentler tone. "Forgive me, Nellie; I can't abide having another win the affections of one I so much covet. If you only knew, Nell——"
"Mr. Elliston, don't."
Both came to their feet.
He advanced and seized her hands once more; nay, he suddenly flung one arm about her slender waist and drew her closely, at the same time imprinting a kiss on her cheek.
"I love you, Nell, and will not give you up. Fly with me, darling, where no odious friends may come between us!"
"Villain, release me!"
Nell struggled with desperate energy, but she was as a child in the hands of the tall scoundrel.
"No, no, little girl, I will not permit you to escape. I mean to make it impossible for you to wed another," grated the man, in a meaning voice, that sent a shudder of horror to the heart of pure Nell Darrel.
Lucky was it for the girl that her visitor had not yet left the house.
Nell screamed aloud, and then the hand of Elliston was pressed over her pretty mouth. Had the man been in his sober senses, he would never have attempted such bold work; but when in liquor Harper Elliston was far from prudent.
"No nonsense now," he sneered.
And then a door opened; a slender form crossed the floor, and as Elliston turned to confront the new-comer he received a straight left-hander in the chest that sent him back reeling.
Gasping, and very red, Nell started aside, and held out her hand with a low cry of alarm.
The stalwart Elliston soon regained his equilibrium, and faced the one who had dealt him such a furious blow—a slender youth not yet out of his teens, yet in whose blue eyes flashed a determined spirit.
"Scoundrel!" ejaculated Elliston.
He stood glaring at the boy with the venom of a mad serpent in his black eyes.
"Get from this house, or I will call the police and have you put in the cooler," said the boy, quickly, standing with clenched hands in front of Nell, and returning the tall man's scowls with interest.
"I'll smash every bone in your body, you insignificant little snipe," roared Elliston. Instead, however, of making the attempt, the man drew a small derringer from his pocket, and lifting the hammer, leveled it at the head of his youthful assaulter.
"Gentlemen, please, please desist," pleaded Nell in a shaky voice. "This is no place for a quarrel."
"It isn't, I admit," returned the boy, "but this sneak brought it about, and now the odds are so much against him, he has recourse to a deadly weapon. There is just that difference between us, Harper Elliston."
The New Yorker started as the youth pronounced his name. He imagined that he was not known to the boy.
"You see, I know you," proceeded the boy, noticing the man start. "I have had the villain Elliston pretty well described to me, and know that your act just now justifies me in calling you by that name. Shoot, coward, if you dare."
There was a cool defiance in the blue eyes of the boy, that won the admiration of Elliston in spite of his anger.
"No, the game is too small," retorted Elliston, lowering his weapon. "I cannot afford to tarnish an honorable reputation by shedding the blood of a child. I shall, nevertheless, remember you, young man, and on the proper occasion give you the thrashing you so richly deserve."
A look from Nell Darrel cut short the words that trembled on the lips of the youth.
"I bid you good afternoon, Miss Darrel," and Elliston bowed and walked to the door. "I will see you again and explain matters."
The door opened and closed, and the smooth villain was gone.
"Thank Heaven!" murmured Nell. "It might have been worse," said the boy. "I did not miss my guess when I called him Elliston?"
"No."
"I thought not. You can see now that Harry Bernard had good reason for warning you to beware of Harper Elliston!"
"I can see it plainly enough," returned the girl. "When will Harry come to Woodburg?"
"I understand how anxious you are," said the boy, with a smile. "Harry is assisting Dyke to ferret out the railroad express crime, and it may be some weeks before he comes to this part of the State. I think he will be satisfied to know that you are true to him. It was his knowledge of Elliston's villainy that induced him to send me to see you with a note of warning."
"I am thankful for his kindness, Mr. Ender."
"Everybody calls me Paul, Miss Darrel."
"And everybody (that is my friends), all call me Nell," returned the girl, with a pleasant little laugh.
"Let it be Nell and Paul then," and the boy joined in her laugh, thus aiding in banishing the shadows of the day. Harry Bernard's youthful messenger soon after departed, promising to call again on the following day, when he might have another message from young Bernard, who was still supposed to be in St. Louis.
In the meantime the angry and discomfited Elliston repaired to the hotel and made hasty preparations for departure.
He left on the first train for Chicago.
It was late in the evening that Mrs. Scarlet, in her den on Clark street, was roused from a nap she was indulging in, with her head against the wall, by a sharp rap at the door.
Rousing up, she went to see who had come.
She admitted a man with a plug hat and red whiskers.
Professor Darlington Ruggles.
"Aren't you glad to see me, Madam?"
He held out a white set of digits.
"No—why should I be glad?"
She accepted the proffer of friendship, however, and shoved a rickety old chair for her visitor's use.
"I'll tell you why. Because I am the best friend you've got in Chicago."
"That wouldn't be saying much," and Mrs. Scarlet laughed harshly.
"Wouldn't it?"
"Didn't I say so? Nobody comes to see me now since poor Nephew Martin was taken from me. I feel about ready to die but for one thing."
"And that?"
"REVENGE!"
Her eyes snapped in their hollow sockets and the withered bosom heaved with inward emotion.
Mr. Ruggles emitted a laugh.
He was evidently pleased at the condition of the woman's feelings.
"I am glad to find you in this condition, Madam," he said, after a brief pause. "I am here to tell you how you can be revenged, if I mistake not the object on whom your hatred rests.
"It's that infernal Dyke Darrel."
"I knew it. You would smile and feel happy to see him suffer?"
"It would be as beefsteak to a starving man," said the woman, savagely.
"Then listen. He has a most charming sister living in one of the interior towns of the State. She is the only relative he has in the wide world. You can strike the railroad detective through Nell Darrel."
"Yes, yes—go on."
"He is away most of his time, as you doubtless know——"
"And the girl is alone?"
"Save for an old negress. Don't interrupt me, please, until I tell you the exact situation. One of my acquaintances, a gentleman of means, and a mean gentleman, for that matter, wishes to get this girl into his possession. What object he may have does not matter, so long as he is willing to pay big for the work. All that is required of you, Mrs. Scarlet, is to furnish a room, and see that when once inside, Miss Darrel does not escape nor communicate with the outside world. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"And you will consent to act as this girl's keeper for a time?"
"Yes, yes," cried the woman, with eager emphasis, and then a low, half-suppressed sneeze startled them both.
Professor Darlington Ruggles sprang up and looked toward the door. It stood ajar, and through the opening peered a masked face, centered with a pair of glittering eyes.
Uttering a mad cry, Ruggles drew a concealed revolver and, leveling at the head, fired.
The reader can imagine the indignation of the railroad detective when he found himself arrested by the Burlington officer.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Dyke Darrel, "but you are making a foolish mistake. I am a detective——"
"That won't go down. If you attempt to escape I will blow out your brains," returned the officer, still holding his cocked weapon to the head of Dyke Darrel.
The detective was deeply annoyed at this. On board the train were the remains of the daughter of one of Burlington's most prominent citizens, and Dyke was extremely anxious to meet the friends and explain the situation.
"You may take me at once to the chief of police," said Dyke Darrel, at length. "I can explain to him, since he knows me."
Another officer approached, and the first one requested him to handcuff his prisoner.
A hot flush of anger shot to the cheek of the detective.
"This is going too far," he said in a vexed tone. "If you attempt to put the irons on me, I'll make you trouble. I tell you I am acquainted with your chief, and demand that you take me to him."
"That's fair enough," said the second officer.
"But he's a dangerous character," persisted the first.
"Whom do you take me for," Dyke demanded indignantly.
"Slim Steve, the train robber."
"Where did you get your information?"
"It doesn't matter."
"You'd better go slow, officer. Look at that, and tell me what you think of it?"
Turning back the lap of his coat Dyke Darrel revealed a glittering silver star, and below this a flaming eye on a dark background.
"A Pinkerton detective!" exclaimed the second officer.
"I am a detective, and know my business without receiving instructions from the police of a one-horse town," retorted Dyke Darrel in anger. "I am willing, however, to visit your chief, who will confirm my words."
"We had orders from him to arrest you."
"Very good. I demand that you take me before him."
After a short consultation the two officers concluded to gratify their prisoner, and, without attempting to handcuff him, they conducted him from the depot to the police station.
As luck would have it, the chief was in, and at once recognized and greeted Dyke Darrel. Explanations soon followed.
"You must not blame my men," said the chief, "for word was sent from an interior town in Illinois stating that a notorious crook was on the train, and would stop at Burlington. A description was given that tallied with yours, and so the mistake was made."
"Do you know who sent the dispatch?"
"A sheriff, I think."
"Just accommodate me with the name of the town, please."
Dyke Darrel was deeply excited at this last attempt to deprive him of his liberty.
The officer referred to the dispatch and read the name of the place from whence it originated.
"Woodburg!"
Dyke Darrel uttered the name in wonder.
"I don't understand it," he said; "that is my own home, and I am too well known there to merit suspicion. It must have been meant for a practical joke," and the detective's thoughts were turned to Harper Elliston.
"It might be, of course," admitted the chief of Burlington police, "but it is a joke that I shouldn't relish, and you might make it warm for the perpetrator. I can telegraph and inquire into it if you wish, Mr. Darrel."
"Not now. I shall be in Woodburg within a few days, and then I will find out all about it."
Dyke Darrel repaired at once to the home of Captain Osborne, which was occupied by relatives of the Captain, and informed them of the sad fate that had overtaken Sibyl Osborne.
An aunt and cousin, the latter a young man of prominence, were the relatives mentioned. The cousin promised to attend the remains, after listening to the strange story Dyke Darrel had to tell. Sibyl had left home ten days before, pretending to go on a visit to friends. When she left it was not suspected that she was out of her mind, consequently the news was all the more sad.
From Burlington the railroad detective returned to Black Hollow, and from there he went to St. Louis to consult with Harry Bernard. Here he was met with the announcement that his young friend had taken the train for Chicago some days before.
This was an annoying state of affairs indeed.
Remaining a few days in St. Louis, Dyke Darrel at length left the city en route for Woodburg. He was anxious to meet Nell, from whom he had been absent now about a fortnight.
On reaching Woodburg the detective found a telegram awaiting him from Chicago:
"Come at once. I have made an important discovery.
"H."
Of course this must be from Harry. It was dated some days before, however, which annoyed Dyke. Harry Bernard might have changed his base of operations by this time.
"I will call at the house," mused Dyke Darrel. "I have an hour's time before the next Chicago train."
Aunt Jule was extremely glad to meet "Marse Dyke."
"Why didn't you bring the young missus wid yo?" questioned the negress.
"What's that? Hope you didn't think I'd committed matrimony?" and the detective laughed lightly, at the same time chucking Aunt Jule under her fat chin.
"Lor-a-massy, no, Marse Dyke. I meant Missy Nell," explained the black woman.
"Miss Nell? Isn't she at home?"
"Wal, now, what a question. In coorse she ain't. Didn' yo' send fur her yo' very self? How den yo' 'spec she's goin' to be home ef yo' didn' done brung her, eh?"
All this was Greek to Dyke Darrel.
"What in the name of caution are you driving at, Aunt Jule? I haven't seen my sister since I left home, and if she's gone to look for me she's done a very foolish thing, for I'm not long in one place—she ought to have known better."
Aunt Jule flounced out of the room, to return soon with a yellow envelope in her hand.
"Dere, look a-dat now. Ef yo' didn' done writ dat, den I'd like to know who did."
The detective opened the letter his housekeeper placed in his hand, and read:
"CHICAGO, April 30, 188-.NELL:—Come on the next train, as I wish to see you in this city. Aunt Jule will look after the house until your return. Don't disappoint me."DYKE."
The detective glanced at the negress after reading this note, the writing of which very much resembled his hand.
"This came when?"
"Yesterday."
"Through the mail?"
"Yes, Marse."
A frown darkened the brow of the detective. He crumpled the letter in his hand and began pacing the floor with nervous strides.
"Somefin must be wrong ef yo' didn' write that letter."
Suddenly Dyke Darrel turned on the speaker and touched her huge arm with a clinging hand.
"Jule, when did my sister answer this letter?" he demanded, fiercely.
"Jest the next train."
"Last night?"
"Yes, Marse Dyke."
Dropping his hand from Aunt Jule's huge arm, the detective rushed from the room and the house. He was laboring under great excitement, as well he might be, for Nell was as the apple of his eye, and she had been enticed to the great city for a fell purpose, he believed.
The instant after Professor Ruggles fired, the masked face in the doorway disappeared, and the sound of swift-moving feet was heard.
Still clutching his weapon, the Professor strode to the door and flung it open, gazing into the alley, which framed no reply to the question that trembled unspoken on his lips.
"Did you hit him, Professor?"
"I fear I didn't."
Professor Ruggles then made an examination of the alley that assured him that his bullet had not been stopped by flesh and bone—instead, it lay on the ground where it had fallen, flattened, from the brick wall above.
"So much for being a poor shot," sneered the woman.
"So much for your condemned carelessness in not locking the door," he retorted with equal severity.
"Well, maybe you'd better see that it is fastened now."
Professor Darlington Ruggles turned the key in the lock, and then assumed a seat once more.
"Let me see. Where did we leave off?"
"In a mighty important place," answered the woman. "If that sneak had been at the door long, he must have heard something of our plans."
"And it makes you feel uneasy?"
"Don't it you?"
"A trifle. I can't imagine who the sneak was."
"Nor I."
"It might have been one of the boys playing a joke," said Ruggles.
"I hope it's nothing more serious."
"I shall dismiss the sneak from my mind at any rate," returned Mr. Ruggles. "To-morrow night you may look for your guest, Mrs. Scarlet. Remember, whatever plans for vengeance you may have formed will be more than gratified in placing this detective's sister completely in the power of a man who knows how to use it."
The Professor's eyes snapped at the last, and he lifted and smoothed his hat rapidly with one long arm.
"I understand. Nothing can be too harsh and awful for one of the breed," hissed Madge Scarlet, in a way that made even Professor Ruggles' flesh creep.
Then he rose to go.
"I will see you again ere long."
Mrs. Scarlet locked the door after the retreating form of the tall Professor, and then, going to the little table, she sat down, and resting her thin cheeks between her hands, she cried:
"It is coming, it is coming! At last I am to avenge the insults heaped upon me and mine by that scoundrel, who sends men to prison for money, for pay doled out to him by the minions of the law. Dan'l, if you can look down on your old widow to-night, from your home among the stars, you will see her with tears of joy in her old eyes at thought of how she will avenge herself on your enemies. When once that girl comes into my hands, I will execute vengeance to suit myself, without regard to Professor Ruggles, or any other man."
So it would seem that even the Professor did not fully comprehend the depth of Mrs. Scarlet's vindictiveness toward Dyke Darrel.
It was Professor Darlington Ruggles who penned the letter to Nell Darrel that sent the unsuspecting girl to Chicago to meet her brother.
She was not a little surprised at not finding Dyke at the depot to meet her, and consequently felt a thrill of alarm at seeing so many strange faces.
Why had he not come?
While standing meditating on what course to pursue, a gentleman in rather seedy garments, yet withal not bad looking, stepped up and touched the girl's arm.
"Is this Miss Darrel?"
"Yes, sir," answered the girl, promptly, at the same time regarding the tall, sunset-haired gentleman, who bowed and lifted his tall hat, with no little curiosity.
"I am Oscar Sims, a friend to the great detective, and ever ready to serve his handsome sister."
"But, sir, I do not think that it will be at all necessary. I expect my brother at any minute, now," returned Nell, with a cool hauteur, meant to be freezing.
Nell had heard of the villainous sharks of the great city, who lie in wait for unsuspecting maidens, and she did not mean to be taken in by one of them. Mr. Sims, however, seemed to be a kind gentleman, and when he looked hurt at her remark she hastened to apologize for seeming rudeness.
"It is not at all necessary," said Mr. Sims, with a bland smile. "Mr. Darrel requested me to visit the depot, and look after a young lady whom he expected on the evening train from Woodburg. I hope you will not distrust one who has the best interests of the great detective at heart."
Again the red-haired gentleman bowed, and looked smilingly into the face of the young girl.
For the time, Nell was thrown off her guard.
"I—I expected to meet my brother," she articulated. "He said nothing about you—a stranger—meeting me at the depot."
"No; and good reason why. He did not know when he wrote that it would be impossible for him to get to the depot. A slight accident——"
"Accident! Dyke injured? Then let me go to him at once," cried the impulsive girl, before the man could complete his sentence.
"It is not so very bad," said Mr. Sims, as he led the way to the walk without, and placed his fair charge on the cushions of a hack. Giving low instructions to the driver, he vaulted to the side of Nell Darrel, and the hack rattled away.
Nell sat flushed and silent for some minutes, her heart throbbing painfully.
"Tell me about it," she finally said to her companion. "How did it happen?"
"I can't give you the particulars, since they were not given to me," answered he. "I only know that Dyke met with a fall on the stone pavement, and Dr. Boneset says that his leg is broken. He is in considerable pain, but cheerful withal, and will be mighty glad to see Nell, as he calls you."
Again the man smiled in the face of the girl at his side, and up to this time no suspicion of the truth flashed upon her brain.
Although the hack moved rapidly, it seemed to the anxious girl a long time in reaching its destination.
"Mr. Darrel is at my house," said the gentleman, "and I live at least two miles from the depot."
This was said to silence the growing uneasiness manifested by Miss Darrel.
When at length the hack came to a halt, Mr. Sims quickly alighted and lifted Nell Darrel to the curb; then the hack sped swiftly into the night.
Nell gazed about her with a shudder.
The low, dingy buildings and bad smell pervading the place startled her.
"It cannot be that this is the place," she cried, standing firm, as he attempted to lead her toward a door, over which glimmered a faint light.
"Oh, yes it is."
"But I will not go in there."
"We'll see about that," he growled, suddenly lifting her in his arms and striding forward.
The moment Nell Darrel felt herself lifted from her feet she uttered a wild cry, which was smothered in its inception by the hand of her captor.
"Quiet, child; nobody's going to hurt you if you behave yourself."
Nell was young and vigorous, and she made a desperate struggle for liberty. It was with the utmost difficulty that the man made his way to the room occupied by Mrs. Scarlet.
"Bring the chloroform," said the villain. "We can't do anything with the girl without it."
"I'll fix her!" answered the woman, in a voice that sent a shudder to the heart of poor Nell.
Then a subtle fume filled the girl's nostrils, and soon her senses faded out upon a sea of nothingness—her troubles were over for the time.
Then the man, who was none other than Professor Ruggles, bore his insensible burden after the steps of Mrs. Scarlet, to a room in a gloomy basement beneath the building.
As we have before remarked, it was in a disreputable part of the city, and it was not likely that the friends of the fair Nell would look in such a quarter for her.
"Now, then," said Professor Ruggles, when the twain were once more in the room above, "I shall hold you responsible for the girl's safe keeping, Mrs. Scarlet."
"I'm ready to do my part," answered the woman. "How long will you keep her here?"
"As long as suits my purpose. I am not sure. I may conclude to wait until Dyke Darrel is put off the trail before I take the girl to Gotham; that city will be my ultimate destination. I must leave you now, my dear, but I shall call to-morrow and see how my girl is getting on."
He turned then as if about to depart.
"See here Professor!"
"Eh?"
He faced about once more.
"Haven't you forgotten something?"
"I think not."
"The girl must eat!"
"Certainly."
"And do you imagineIam going to pay the bill?" demanded the woman, tartly.
"Well, I had forgotten that a little of the root of evil was necessary in your case."
A smile, deepening into a disagreeable laugh, followed, as Professor Ruggles laid a greenback in the hand of his tool.
A moment later he was gone.
As the door closed on his retreating form, the countenance of Madge Scarlet underwent a change. The wrinkled face flushed with wrath, and the skinny hands were raised on high.
"Professor Ruggles, you may have successfully duped the girl, but you cannot make one of me. I can read you like a book, and it maybe that I shall conclude not to permit you to have your way in this matter. Through this girl I shall be able to wring the heart of the man I hate, and I mean to do it. Ah! Dyke Darrel, venomous scoundrel! The hour of my revenge draws nigh! I shall willingly cast my soul into Hades for this one drop of satisfaction."
There was an awful glitter in the woman's eyes at the last, and her fierce emotions caused her frame to tremble visibly.
In the meantime, how fared it with poor Nell Darrel, who had gone thus blindly to her doom? She did not awake from the stupor caused by the chloroform, until another day had dawned upon the world, although but little light was permitted to find its way into this underground apartment, whose stone walls were damp with ooze, and from whence no voice could penetrate to the busy world above.
A faint light entered the place from between iron bars that spanned a narrow window, far above the head of little Nell Darrel.
The only furniture in this cellar was a straw cot, on which Nell had been laid, and a low stool. The girl felt terribly sick and weak when she came to realize her condition.
She could understand now the truth, when too late, that she had been enticed from home by a villain, and naturally enough her thoughts reverted to Harper Elliston.
Yet, why should she think of that man? Surely he was not wicked enough to stoop to anything of this kind.
Nell was not to be left long in suspense, however. The door to her prison creaked on its hinges, and a man entered and stood confronting her in the gray light.
It was Harper Elliston.
There was a smile on his sinister countenance, and he stroked his beard with the coolest insolence imaginable.
"How do you find yourself this morning, my dear?" questioned Elliston in a low voice.
"This is your work, villain!"
"Hush; don't speak in such a harsh tone, Nell," answered Mr. Elliston, with a deprecatory wave of the hand. "I cannot permit you to impugn my motive, Miss Darrel. I claim that all is fair in love and war. You know from repeated assurances on my part that I love you; once I wished to make you my wife. Blame me not if I have changed my mind on that score; it is you who have driven me to it. Nevertheless, I am constrained to deal justly and kindly with you, my girl, and again offer to share my New York palace with you. Could anything be more generous?"
The infamy of his proposition roused all the fire in the nature of Nell Darrel.
"Harper Elliston, how dare you insult me in this way? Do you imagine that I would for one moment countenance anything so base? You have missed your mark if you imagine you can frighten me into consenting to my own ruin."
"It may be accomplished without your consent."
Such a look as swept his face startled the girl. The hideous nature of the man was now revealed in all its naked deformity. She shrank from him as she would have shrunk from a venomous serpent.
He continued to smile and stroke his glossy beard.
"You see how it is, my dear," he proceeded. "The wisest thing you can do is to submit to the inevitable."
He advanced as lie spoke.
She recoiled with a shudder of wild alarm.
"Back, scoundrel! Do not touch me!" she cried, warningly, an indignant, perhaps dangerous, fire blazing in her eye.
Again the demon laughed.
"You seem to take my love-making hard, Miss Darrel."
"Not another step," warned Nell.
"Ho! ho! ho! Would you try to frighten me? You can't do that, I've tamed more than one such as you. Come, be sensible, and let me have one kiss at least."
Again he advanced.
CLICK!
Harper Elliston uttered a low yet startled cry and shrank back in alarm.
A cocked derringer gleamed in the hand of Nell Darrel, and the open muzzle was pointed at his breast.
This was as disagreeable as it was unexpected.
A low-muttered oath fell from the lips of the baffled villain.
"Girl, have a care, that weapon may go off," he cried, in a voice husky with disappointment and rage.
"It WILL go off if you do not depart at once," she answered, with all the sternness she was able to muster.
"Hand that pistol to me."
"Never! Its contents you will get if you dare advance another step."
Harper Elliston realized that he was baffled for the present. He had never suspected the presence of a weapon on the person of Nell Darrel, else he would have disarmed her at the outset.
After a moment of hesitancy the villain turned and strode from the place. When Nell attempted to follow she was confronted by a solid oak door that Elliston had quickly closed and locked behind him.
With a low moan Nell retreated and sank weak and trembling on the miserable cot, and for the next few minutes gave free rein to her alarm in tears.
In the meantime Elliston hurried above, and confronted Madge Scarlet with a terrible frown on his brow.
"You and that red-headed Professor have played a smart trick on me, old woman, a mighty smart trick; but let me tell you it won't go down for a cent. I don't like it much, neither."
"Eh? I don't understand," said Mrs. Scarlet.
"I'll make you understand," and Elliston advanced angrily upon the woman, and raised his hand.
"Strike if you dare!"
She looked ugly at that moment.
"You're just capable of strikin' a woman," sneered Madge Scarlet. "I've seen such critters before. God never meant them for men, however."
Mr. Elliston held his hand. He saw that he had come near making a mistake.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Scarlet," he said in a subdued voice. "I was beside myself, but I had reason to be. Do you know that Nell Darrel is armed?"
"No."
"She IS, nevertheless, with a pistol. She's a perfect tigress, and would as soon shoot me as not. I shall leave it for you to get the weapon from her."
"I can do it easy enough."
"I hope so. To-night I will have more definite plans. I may conclude to take the girl away then."
Mr. Elliston passed from the room. He had been gone but a few minutes when another person entered—Nick Brower, the tool and friend of Mrs. Scarlet and the Professor.
"Well, what's the news, Nick. My nephew is still in durance vile?"
"Yes," answered the low ruffian, "and what's more, Dyke Darrel, the detective, is in Chicago!"
Two men met unexpectedly in one of the hotel corridors of the great city; two hands went out, and
"How are you, Harry?"
"How are you, Dyke, old boy?"
"When did you leave St. Louis?"
This from the detective.
"Not long since. I am confident that our game is in this vicinity. I meant to come down to Woodburg soon, and consult with you. I sent a telegram, but it brought no answer from you."
"I wasn't at home. It was placed in my hands yesterday."
"And that is why you are here?"
"Not wholly."
There was a gloomy look on the face of the detective, not natural to it, and young Bernard knew that something had gone decidedly wrong with his detective friend.
"It is about Nell," said Dyke Darrel, when questioned. "She came to the city last evening, in answer to a letter purporting to come from me. The letter was a decoy from some villain, and I fear that Nell has met with a terrible fate."
A groan came at the last.
Harry Bernard's face blanched, and he, too, seemed excited and deeply moved. The keen eyes of Dyke Darrel noticed the young man's emotion, and he felt a suspicion growing stronger each moment.
"Nell in the city—decoyed!" exclaimed Harry at length. "Great heaven! Dyke, this is awful!" "It is."
Then the detective laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and piercing him with a stern look, said in an awful voice:
"Harry Bernard, on your honor as a man, what do you know of this enticing of Nell to the city?"
"What do I know?"
"Yes; what do you know?"
There was a stern ring in the detective's voice, not to be mistaken.
"I know only what you have just told me, Dyke."
"This is the truth?"
"Good heaven! Dyke Darrel, do you imagine thatIhad aught to do with enticing your sister to this wicked city? My soul! You do not understand the feeling that animates my heart for Nell Darrel. I hope you will not insult me again with a suspicion so haggard and awful."
The hurt look resting on the face of the young amateur detective was sufficient to convince Dyke Darrel that Harry Bernard spoke the truth, and this knowledge only increased his uneasiness.
"I am fearful some terrible ill has befallen Nell," groaned Dyke.
"My friend," said Harry, "we must let all other matters rest until we find the girl. I have a suspicion that may lead to something definite. Let me tell you now, that during the past year you have warmed a serpent in your bosom in the person of Harper Elliston. I have never, until now, dared make this assertion in your presence, knowing as I did the great respect you had for the oily-tongued fellow. The time for plain speaking has come, however."
"I shall take no offense."
"No! I am glad to hear you say that. Come to my room, Dyke, and I will tell you something that may open your eyes a little."
The detective complied, and when they were seated Harry poured out his confidence.
"I am glad you have been thus frank with me, Harry," said the detective when his friend had finished. "I have heard enough of late to convince me that Elliston is a wolf in sheep's clothing!"
"And that is one point gained."
"It is."
"And I believe that it was Elliston who penned the decoy letter."
"I am more than half convinced that such is the case," admitted Dyke Darrel.
"Have you investigated?"
"Thoroughly, since I came into town. I learned that Nell got off at the depot, and that she met a red-haired man, and entered a hack with him. After that all is blank."
"That confirms my suspicions, Dyke." "What is that?"
"This man with the florid looks meeting Nell, and going away from the depot in her company, Professor Ruggles, is a friend of Elliston's."
"Indeed!"
"It is true. I believe before another day passes, the place of the girl's seclusion can be found. Down on Clark street is Mother Scarlet's place, a played-out old hag, and she has been hand and glove with this red-haired man for some time."
"Mother Scarlet!" exclaimed the detective. "I have met her; she is the aunt of the Martin Skidway who is now serving out the remainder of his term for counterfeiting."
"The same, I suppose. I move that we visit her den, and see what we can find."
"Agreed. Let us go at once."
Dyke Darrel came to his feet.
"One moment, Dyke."
"Well."
"You are too well known by the crooks of this city to move about without disguise."
"I will fix that. I will meet you again in an hour."
And then Dyke Darrel hurried away.
It was almost dark when two men, one old and gray, with a hump on his shoulder, called at a dingy old brick on Clark street and rapped on a narrow door that opened into an alley.
No answer was vouchsafed.
Then the old man turned the knob, but the door refused to yield.
"What's wanted, you fellers?"
The voice came from behind the two men. Turning, they saw a stout, ill-looking fellow, with unkempt hair and beard, peering in at them from the street.
"Ain't this the house where Mrs. Scarlet stops," questioned the elderly man.
"Mebbe 'tis."
"Where's the woman now?"
"Bless your soul, old man, I don't know. Better call agin; she's allus in evenings," suggested the man at the edge of the street.
"Mebbe we had," grunted the old man at the door. Then he and his companion moved out of the alley. They went but a little way when they came to a full stop, and entered into a low confab.
A pair of keen eyes was watching them during the time, however, and a little later the man who had addressed the two strangers walked away. He passed to the rear of the block, and made his way by a back stairs to a room on the first floor. Here he found the one he was seeking— Mrs. Scarlet—who was engaged in discussing a supper of bread and beer.
She was alone.
"Eh? so you're here again, Nick? Did he send ye?"
"The Professor?"
"Who else should I mean?"
"Wall, he didn't, then. I seed a couple of blokes in the alley jist now, and they 'quired for you."
"Why didn't you send 'em up?" and the woman laughed in a way that revealed her ragged teeth and unwholesome gums.
"They'll be back soon 'nough," answered the man. "I've an idee they mean mischief. Better you go below and see 'em when they do come."
"All right."
About an hour after darkness had settled, while Madge Scarlet sat in the lower room, the one in which we have so many times met her, the door was unceremoniously opened, and a man crossed the threshold.
An old man he was, with bent form and white hair, a hump disfiguring his shoulder, his trembling right hand resting on the top of a cane.
"Good evening, mistress."
The old man, who had closed the door sharply to behind him, sank to a rickety chair as he uttered the greeting.
"I don't know you," retorted Madge Scarlet sharply. "Haven't you got into the wrong house?"
"Well, I dunno," whined the man in a sharp falsetto voice. "I reckon if you're Mistress Scarlet, you're the one I'm to see."
"I'm not ashamed to own to the name, old man. Let's have your business at once."
"I'm pretty much broke up since I came out of the bastile," said the old man. "'Taint jest the place for a gentleman, I can tell you that. It's mighty down-settin' on one's pride, which I had a heap of afore I was sent to abide there."
"Who are you and what are you driving at?"
Mrs. Scarlet asked the question with a puzzled stare. She was possessed of a very suspicious nature, and she was not ready to accept a person on outward appearance alone.
"I'm William Sugg, from Missoury," the old man answered promptly. "I came all the way to Shecargo to see the aunt of a friend. Mebbe you'll understand when I tell you, that Martin Skidway was one of the best friends an old man like me had in the bastile."
The name of her nephew opened the way to Madge Scarlet's heart at once.
She questioned Mr. Sugg about the young man, and he answered her with the assurance that they had been inmates of the same prison, and that Martin was losing flesh rapidly from melancholy.
"It's the doings of that devil, Dyke Darrel," cried Mrs. Scarlet, losing her temper at thought of her troubles.
"I've kind o' thought, bein' as I was in Shecargy, I'd look up a boardin' place and stay a spell. I've heerd that you have rooms to rent?"
"I have, to the right ones."
"Will you show me some?"
"Certainly."
Mrs. Scarlet rose and lifted a lamp from the table.
"Come this way."
As the woman led the way through a back door, into another apartment, a pair of strong hands suddenly seized and held her fast, while a voice hissed in her ear:
"Not a sound or you die!"
It was a startling situation.
"I am here for a purpose," said the old man, a sudden change in his voice. "I want you to lead me to the room in which Nell Darrel is confined."
The man's hands fell from the woman's shoulders, and when she turned about, she found that he had her covered with a revolver.
His voice sounded familiar.
"You're the detective, Dyke Darrel?"
"It matters not. Show me the way to the room where you have Nell Darrel imprisoned," uttered the man in a stern voice.
The menacing revolver decided the woman. The old building had been arranged for emergencies of this kind, as the sequel will show. A strange glitter came to the eyes of Mrs. Scarlet as she said:
"Who told you that Nell Darrel was in this house?"
"It matters not. Lead the way at once, or it will be the worse for you."
"You dare not harm me."
"I'll show you, if you attempt to play me false. A dozen policemen have their eyes on this building at this moment."
"Come on."
The woman turned and walked forward. She passed into a hall, and halting at a side door, unlocked it and pushed it open.
"In there."
"Go on. You shall keep me company."
Mrs. Scarlet advanced, closely followed by the detective.
The moment he crossed the threshold the door closed behind him, and the lamp was extinguished, leaving everything in total darkness. Then the detective felt the floor give way, and he was precipitated to his doom, the last sound reaching his ears being a mocking laugh from Aunt Scarlet.