CHAPTER II.
DYKE DARREL'S TRICK.
"Certainly I do," cried the detective. "Come with me, and we will finda place where we can talk without danger of interruption."
The two men moved swiftly down the street. At length Dyke Darrelentered a well-known restaurant on Randolph street, secured a privatestall, and then bade Mr. Wilks proceed. Both men were seated at asmall table.
"Shan't I order the wine?"
"No," answered Dyke, with a frown. "We need clear brains for the workin hand. If you know aught of this monstrous crime, tell it at once."
"I do know a considerable," said Mr. Wilks. "I was the first man whodiscovered Arnold Nicholson after he'd been shot. The safe was in thevery car that I occupied. I saw the men get the swag. There were threeof them."
"Go on."
"They all wore mask, so of course I could not tell who they were; butI've an idea that they were from Chicago."
"Why have you such an idea?"
"Because I saw three suspicious chaps get on at Twenty-second street.I think they are the chaps who killed poor Arnold, and got away withthe money in the safe."
"Did you recognize them?"
"No--that is, I'm not positive; but I think one of 'm was a chap thatis called Skinny Joe, a hard pet, who used to work in a saloon onClark street."
"Indeed."
"Yes. It might be well to keep your eye out in that quarter."
"It might," admitted Dyke Darrel. "This is all you know regarding themidnight tragedy?"
"Oh, no; I can give you more particulars."
"Let's have them, then."
"But see here, how am I to know that you are a detective? I might getsold, you know," replied Mr. Wilks in a suspicious tone.
Dyke Darrel lifted the lapel of his coat, exposing a silver star.
"All right," returned Mr. Wilks, with a nod. "I'm of the opinion thatSkinny Joe's about the customer you need to look after, captain. I'llgo down with you to the fellow's old haunts, and we'll see what we canfind."
Mr. Wilks seemed tremendously interested. Dyke Darrel was naturallysuspicious, and he was not ready to swallow everything his companionsaid as law and gospel. Of course the large reward was a stimulant formen to be on the lookout for the midnight train robbers; and Mr.Wilks' interest must be attributable to this.
"You see, I was Arnold Nicholson's friend, and I'd go a long ways tosee the scoundrels get their deserts who killed him, even if there wasno reward in the case," explained the brakeman suddenly.
"Certainly," answered Dyke Darrel. "I can understand how one employedon the same train could take the deepest interest in such a sadaffair."
"Will you go down on Clark street with me?"
"Not just now."
"When?"
"I will meet you here this evening, and consult on that point."
"Very well. Better take something."
"No; not now."
Dyke Barrel rose to his feet and turned to leave the stall.
"Don't fail me now, sir."
"I will not."
The detective walked out. The moment he was gone a change came overthe countenance of the young brakeman. The pleasant look vanished, andone dark and wicked took its place.
"Go, Dyke Darrel; I am sharp enough to understand you. You distrustme; but you're fooled all the same. It's strange you've forgotten theboy you sent to prison from St. Louis five years ago for passingcounterfeit coin. I haven't forgotten it; and, what is more, I mean toget even."
Then, with a grating of even white teeth, Watson Wilks passed out. Atthe bar he paused long enough to toss off a glass of brandy, and thenhe went out upon the street.
It was a raw April day, and the air cut like a knife. After glancingup and down the street Mr. Wilks moved away. On reaching Clark streethe hurried along that thoroughfare toward the south. Arriving in adisreputable neighborhood, he entered the side door of a dingy brickbuilding, and stood in the presence of a woman, who sat mending a pairof old slippers by the light afforded by a narrow window.
"Madge Scarlet, I've found you alone, it seems."
"I'm generally alone," said the female, not offering to move.
She was past the prime of life, and there were many crow's feet on aface that had once been beautiful. Her dress was plain, and not theneatest. The room was small, and there were few articles of furnitureon the uncarpeted floor.
"Madge, where are Nick and Sam?"
"I can't tell you."
"Haven't they been here to-day?"
"No, not in three days." "That seems strange."
"It doesn't to me. They are out working the tramp dodge, in thecountry, or into some worse iniquity, Watson. I do wish you would quitsuch company, and try and behave yourself."
At this the young man gave vent to a sarcastic laugh.
"Now, Aunt Madge, what an idea! Do you suppose your dear nephew coulddo anything wrong? Aren't I a pattern of perfection?"
Watson Wilks drew himself up and looked as solemn as an owl. This didnot serve to bring a pleased expression to the woman's face, however.As she said nothing, the young man proceeded:
"I'm working on the railroad now, Madge, and haven't turned adishonest penny in a long time. Of course you heard of the robbery ofthe midnight express down in the central part of the State last night?Some of the morning papers have an account of it."
"I hadn't heard."
"Well, then, I will tell you about it;" and Mr. Wilks gave a briefaccount of the terrible tragedy that had shocked the land. "It's aregular Jesse James affair, and there's a big reward offered for theoutlaws."
The woman seemed interested then, and looked hard at her nephew.
"Watson, I hope you know nothing of this work?"
"Of course I know something of it," he answered quickly. "I returnedin charge of the dead body of the messenger. I was in the next carwhen he was killed, and one of the robbers put his pistol to my headand threatened to blow my brains out if I said or did anything. Youcan just bet I kept mighty still."
"I should think so. This'll make a tremendous stir," returned thewoman. "The country'll be full of man-trackers and it'll go hard withthe outlaws if they're captured."
"You bet; but they won't be captured." "You are confident?"
"I've a right to be. I---"
Then the young man ceased to speak suddenly, and his face becamedeeply suffused.
The woman sprang up then and went to the young man's side, laying herhand on his shoulder.
"Watson, tell me truly that you don't know who committed this crime."
"Bother!" and he flung her hand from his shoulder with an impatientmovement. "I hope you ain't going to turn good all to once, MadgeScarlet. I tell you, thirty thousand dollars ain't to be sneezed at,and I do need money--but of course _I_ don't know a thing about whodid it, of course not; but I can tell you one thing, old lady, DykeBarrel is on the trail, and he is even now in Chicago."
"Dyke Darrel!"
"That's who, Madam."
For some moments a silence fell over the two that was absolutelypainful. At length the woman found her voice.
"Dyke Barrel! Ah! fiend of Missouri, I have good cause to remember youand your work. Do you know, Watson, the fate of your poor uncle?"
"Well, I should smile if I didn't," answered the young man. "He diedin a Missouri dungeon, sent there by this same Dyke Darrel, therailroad man-tracker. Hate him? Of course you do, but not as I do. Ihave sworn to have revenge for the five years I laid in a dungeon forshoving the queer."
"And Dyke Darrel is now in Chicago?"
"Yes. I parted from him not an hour since."
"What is he here for?"
"The crime on the midnight express brings him here."
"And you saw and talked with him?"
"I did."
"He recognized you of course?"
"No, he did not; that is the best of it. I am to meet him againto-night. It won't be long before the man who sent Uncle Dan to aMissouri dungeon is in your presence,
and you shall do with him as youlike, Madge Scarlet."
"As I like?"
"I have said it."
"Then Dyke Darrel shall die!"
"That's the talk," Madge. "THAT sounds like your old self; I am gladyou have come to your senses. If Nick and Sam come in, tell them to bein readiness to receive a visitor."
Then the young man turned on his heel and abruptly left the room. Justas the shades of night were falling Watson Wilks peered into thesaloon and restaurant where he had parted from Dyke Darrel earlier inthe day.
He saw nothing of the detective.
"It is time he was here," muttered the young man. "Dyke Darrel isgenerally prompt in filling engagements."
"Always prompt, MARTIN SKIDWAY!"
The young villain staggered back against the iron railing near, asthough stricken a blow in the face.
Unconsciously he had uttered his thoughts aloud, and the voice thatuttered the reply was hissed almost in his ear.
Dyke Darrel stood before him.
The detective's face wore a stern look, which was suddenly discardedfor a smile.
"I am prompt in filling engagements," said Darrel, after a moment."You see I have at last recognized you, and the walls of the prisonfrom which you escaped shall again envelop you."
And then a sharp click was heard. The fraudulent brakeman held up hisarms helplessly--they were safely secured with handcuffs!
Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express Page 2
